


Is this a family?

by Warenia



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU
Genre: Bat Family, F/M, Family Drama, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2014-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:58:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 25
Words: 37,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warenia/pseuds/Warenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Damian shows up in Gotham and Bruce starts suddenly taking suspiciously long business trips, nothing in the family will stay the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wayne Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So since I'm on it, I'm changing the dashes to quotations on this fic too. To clear it up and because that's what people are kind of used to.

Gotham City.

The sky stretches over everything like a grey canvas, dripping water over everything. People rush in the streets holding umbrellas, jackets and newspapers – anything that is first at hand – over their heads.

A black limousine drives around in the dirty, muddy streets. Its headlights spike through the rain like sharp, bright nails. Inside the limousine sits a 10-year-old boy with his left leg crossed over the right one. He is watching the city with a dull, almost bored expression frozen on his face. He adjusts his tie a bit and his nose wrinkles up just a little as he straightens the sleeves of his suit.

The boy is very attractive to say the least. He is still a kid but his body figure is already slim and muscular. Not in a conspicuous way but definitely in a way you can’t ignore. He has perfect dark hair and even more perfect features. In fact, his face could be described as angelic if it wasn’t for the murderous glare living in his dark, cold and calculating eyes.

"Damian," a woman calls. The boy rips his gaze away from the city and raises his eyebrows.

"Yes, Mother?"

"You do know I’m not doing this because I don’t care?"

The boy called Damian sighs. It was at least the hundredth time his mother – Talia al Ghul, a business woman with a very interesting and wide reputation – asked that.

"I do, Mother. It’s time I spent some time with my father. And also, I should have a place to call home."

"Damian. You do have a home," Talia reminds. She seemed somewhat irritated by this notion.

"Not the same thing, Mother."

"I know," Talia sighs, "ah. I see we’re here."

The limousine slows down and finally stops in front of a huge manor. Damian can’t get a good look at it in the dark rain but he can see it’s big, very big. It looks stark and somewhat hostile. If a house even can look hostile.

Damian steps out of the car. The driver rushes to carry out his bags while Talia walks around the car and gives Damian a very awkward hug smelling like perfume and a slight taste of red wine. The boy can’t even remember the last time his mother had hugged him.

With that Talia returns to the car and the limousine drives away leaving Damian alone in the rain.

Well, not alone.

There’re two figures standing on the porch of Wayne Manor. One of them is Bruce Wayne, Damian’s father. The other must be Alfred Pennyworth, Mr. Wayne’s butler. While Pennyworth’s expression is totally blank, Bruce’s face shows a mix of insecurity and curiosity wrapped inside a fake smile.

Damian scowls.

His eyes drift higher and fix into an open window. There’s someone standing by it. Two someones, to be accurate. The younger boy is maybe 14 and the older one looks around 16. The young one is staring at Damian. When he notices that his gaze is returned with great repulsion, he narrows his eyes before marching away. The older boy’s expression darkens. He glances out one last time and then turns away from the window, allowing the curtains to swallow the light shining through the rain.

Damian looks even higher. Something moves on the roof. Damian feels himself to be watched but he can’t see by whom. Cold shivers run down the boy’s spine but he shakes the feeling off and grabs his bags. He walks the steps to the porch and stops in front of Bruce Wayne – his father and a man who he sees for the first time tonight.

"You’re Damian, I presume?" Bruce Wayne asks, holding out a hand. Damian looks at it for a second and drops his bags. He shakes hands with the man and allows himself to be guided inside. Mr. Pennyworth takes up Damian’s bags and carries them inside after them.

"I’ll take these to your room of residence, master Damian," mr. Pennyworth notifies before disappearing into the hallways.

Bruce leads Damian through the huge hall, past luxurious furniture and prestige artwork to a smaller salon.

An enormous fireplace takes up most of the back wall. Plush armchairs are surrounding it and a coffee table made of cherry wood contains a large tray of pastries – cookies, cupcakes, doughnuts, sandwiches and so on – and pot of Earl Grey tea.

Two of the armchairs are already occupied. The two boys who were watching Damian from the window, he notes. Their expressions are well-hidden but Damian can see right through them. He is the stranger here. He may be related to Bruce by blood but it doesn’t make him family.

Bruce glances around the room and he scowls.

"Where’s Dick?"

"Haven’t seen him since dinner," the older one of the boys says and grabs a pastry. Bruce sighs.

"Then we’ll start without him. Damian, please, have a seat."

Damian sits and so does Bruce. Mr. Pennyworth walks in and pours everyone a cup of tea. Damian accepts it but doesn’t even intend to take a sip.

"So, Damian. Talia says she can’t keep you by her side when she travels the world. I’ve agreed to accommodate you, hence the fact that she didn’t bother to tell me I have a son. I believe she told you I have three wards?"

"She mentioned them," the boy answers eyeing the two emotionlessly. The younger of Bruce’s wards seems to be angered by his attitude. He is narrowing his eyes at Damian who just looks back with no reaction.

"Then I believe introductions are in place," Bruce deduces. He nods to the older boy who smirks ironically and shifts in his chair.

"I’m Jason Todd."

Damian measures the young man from head to toes. He is certainly handsome but his features are spoiled by the knowing, arrogant smile playing on his lips. His hair is short and dark except for a single stripe of white over his left temple. His figure is muscular and strong but that isn’t what makes the young man impressing. It’s something in his eyes, something Damian doesn’t bother to analyze right now.

His eyes shift toward the younger boy.

"Tim Drake," the boy simply says. His words flood with hostility. Damian notes that also Tim’s face has caught some good genetics. The boy’s hair is even darker than Jason’s and his tresses almost touch his shoulders. Tim has more slender build than the rest of his “family”, very bird-like.

"Damian Wayne," Damian answers. He decided to use his father’s last name – if not for any else reason than to point out to Bruce’s other “sons” that he is the only real son Bruce has.

The salon doors open.

Everyone’s eyes turn toward the new entrant who turns out to be a young man around his 18th year.

"Sorry I’m late. Did I miss on much?"

So _this_ is Bruce’s third ward. He is _beautiful_ , a word Damian tosses around rarely. If Damian had to describe an angel, this would be exactly what he’d imagine. The young man’s eyes are bright blue, deep as ocean and just as mesmerising. His muscles are clearly visible under the plain, white shirt and black jeans he’s wearing. It’s actually making Damian feel sort of uncomfortable. The young man walks into the room and his steps look like he doesn’t touch the ground at all. There’s something about his whole presence too, something pure and charismatic.

"Dick. How nice of you to honour us with your presence," Jason snorts. Damian senses something behind the words but he doesn’t quite catch it. But the young man, called Dick, clearly does. His light smile wavers a bit but it doesn’t break the charm his appearance set over the room.

"Shh, Jay. I’m having a good day," Dick answers. Just now Damian notes the relaxed tone in the young man’s husky voice.

"Dick, this is Damian… Wayne," Bruce interrupts, hesitating before pronouncing his last name, "Damian, this is Dick Grayson."

"So you’re the missing family piece," Dick remarks, making his words sound like question.

"Family piece," Jason repeats, "pun intended."

Damian doesn’t get the joke. Except that it isn’t meant to be a joke. The rest of the “family” does however get it and the room temperature drops a few degrees.

"Please don’t start, Jason," Tim appeals, "Dick didn’t mean that."

"Oh, I know, little T. And it wasn’t meant for Dick. I don’t have _a problem_ with Dick. But that doesn’t mean there’s peace in this family," Jason blurts angrily and jumps to his feet. Damian’s eyes follow Jason walking out of the room and it’s hanging by a thread that he won’t roll his eyes at the overly-dramatic exit.

"Tim," Bruce sighs and rubs his forehead, "leave Jason be. He –"

"Is going through a hard time?" Tim guesses, "yeah, figures. It doesn’t mean he gets to mock and bully me. Or you."

Tim stands up and bangs his empty cup on the coffee table. Then he marches out of the room. Bruce stares at the cup for a while before getting up and pressing his hand at Damian’s shoulder.

"We aren’t usually like this. It’s a rough time. I’ll have Alfred show you your room."

"I can do that," Dick offers. Bruce nods thankfully.

He looks tired. Damian actually feels sorry for him but he also feels disappointed. This isn’t the great and mighty man his mother described to him. This is an old man feeling tired under his burdens. And this certainly isn’t what he imagined having a father (and three brothers…) to be.

Bruce leaves Damian and Dick alone into the salon.

Dick sits next to Damian and grabs a cookie.

"Jay and Tim… they fight a lot. It’s complicated, really. One day they hate each other, another day they swear they’ll conquer the world together. But Jay, he made a few bad choices and now he fights with Bruce, too," Dick tells, "and Tim, he isn’t usually that cold. It’s just because our family is… tight. He feels threatened. Try and understand us. We aren’t like most families."

"Tt. I don’t care about some sappy 'family' drama," Damian scoffs. The quotation marks are visible in his tone. Dick smiles and takes another cookie. There’s something about the smile. It makes Damian regret he blurted the words out loud.

"I understand. I wish you would, though."

Dick stands up. He gestures towards the halls and raises his eyebrows. Damian follows him without a word.

He can already tell that he won’t like this “family” he has been tossed into. Dick turns to glance whether or not Damian is following him. A slight flicker in the young man’s enchanting, blue eyes catches Damian’s attention. There’s curiosity, yes, but something else too. There is _understanding._

Well, maybe there is one person in this family he will like.

– – –


	2. After four years

Four years later…

– – –

"Damian!"

Someone knocks violently on his doors while shouting his name.

"Shut up, Drake, I’m sleeping!"

"And talking? Now drag your useless, arrogant ass out here or –"

"Or what?" Damian asks as he opens the door. It leaves Tim searching for balance since the door isn’t there anymore when he tries to hit it once more. Damian gives a pitying look at his desperate fumbling.

"Never mind," Tim huffs when he finally regains his balance, "we’re going to be late. So would you please speed up a bit?"

"You do still remember how I beat your ass at the running track two weeks back, Drake?" Damian smirks while lazily pulling over his clothes.

"Then it shouldn’t be hard for you to be a bit quicker," Tim concludes as he walks away.

Damian rolls his eyes. He dresses up quickly and turns to his mirror to adjust his tie and set his shirt collar straight. The boy spins around to confirm that his suit is perfect from every angle. In a way his perfectionist side is making his life a bit difficult but the feeling of accomplishment after perfection is worth the extra effort.

Jason stops at his open door and grins in a mocking manner. Damian shoots him a murderous glare.

"You got a problem, Todd?"

"Aside from you, brat?"

"Tt. Aside from me," Damian confirms. He finds that Jason is a reckless asshole but in four years he has learned to ignore the older boy’s bad sense of humour and can almost even like the guy. Just almost.

"You know you are going to _school_ , little D? Not to a board meeting?"

"Yes. But some of us have a sense of _style_ , Todd. And lose the nickname. I may be shorter than you but I know 127 ways to change that fact and most of them include your immediate death."

"No need to get violent there, little D. It’s just because I can’t really call Dick big D, you see? It’s not considered _appropriate._ "

Damian sighs and stares hopelessly to the ceiling. Jason has been like that ever since – and probably before – Damian moved into the Wayne Manor. And at this rate he isn’t going to change in a long time.

"It’s good to see you broaden your vocabulary, Todd. Aside from swear words, I mean," Damian mocks and slams his door shut.

– – –

Dick is sitting high in a tree by the street. He watches Jason drive off with Tim and Damian to drop them off at school before heading to work at the science centre near the Wayne Enterprises building. Three weeks ago Jason got a job as a security guard there and Dick is just hoping his younger brother can keep it, unlike all the other ones before it.

Dick smiles distantly as he swings to another tree on the other side of the road. He jumps from tree to tree, dancing with the wind, flying through the air, bouncing off the trees and branches, until the city stretches over his view. Only then he stops and contemplates what it is that he’s going to do today.

He takes a leap and lands in perfect balance over the closest building. Dick raises his head and measures Gotham with eager and curiosity that has kept on growing day after day and night after night.

The last five years he has spent observing and scouring Gotham with never-ending enthusiasm. He has seen a lot, not all good things, but it’s just what Gotham is. Dangerous place, that’s what it is. Evil, some say. But Dick isn’t afraid. He knows the city and merges into it like a shadow merges into the night.

And it’s daytime now. It’s _safer_ now. Dick takes a few confident steps before jumping out to the empty air. He makes a lithesome somersault and lands over the next, lower rooftop with a smooth roll. He laughs quietly out loud, enjoying the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the freedom of flying over roofs of Gotham intoxicating his senses.

It takes hours before he is ready to return to the face of the earth.

The clock is near 3pm. He should be picking Damian up from school. Tim said he was going to go over to Stephanie’s so Dick wouldn’t have to worry about him. Now that Jay has a new job, it is Dick’s turn to be the personal driver for his brothers. The last three weeks Alfred has done the job for him but he simply can’t avoid it any longer.

Reluctantly Dick makes his way to Wayne Enterprises where he always keeps one of the family cars, for cases exactly like this.

3.01pm. Dick pulls the brakes in front of the high-profile school both Damian and Tim go to. Their age gap is good four years but the school has three buildings and students of all twelve grades.

Dick searches for Damian but he can’t see the boy anywhere. Damian has always been very tight with schedules – always nagging at someone for being late – and chastising their usual personal driver Jay for being a minute late seems to be Damian’s favourite subject. Well, this is the case when he hasn’t gotten into a fight on the last period, which unfortunately is roughly about two times a week.

Dick steps out of the car and glances around. There. He finally has eyes on Damian. The boy is marching towards Dick with a glare that could easily burn down the whole city. Damian sits on the passenger seat and fastens his seat belt without a word.

"What got you all wound up?" Dick laughs as he sits down and starts the car.

"Tt. None of your business, Grayson."

"Sure. But if you want to talk –"

"I said it’s none of your business," Damian hisses angrily. Dick nods.

"I understand."

They are quiet for a good ten minutes. Then Damian suddenly shifts in his seat and looks up to Dick.

"I got into a fight," Damian blurts. Dick sighs. He can hear the boy draw in breath and he also knows what Damian is going to say. He’s going to tell Dick to stop judging him and to stay out of his business (for like the tenth time this week.)

"Was it a good reason?" Dick asks before Damian can open his mouth.

"They were teasing this girl…"

"Oh?"

"Shut up, Grayson."

"I didn’t say anything."

"You thought about something. I shouldn’t have said anything," Damian mutters angrily. Then he crosses his arms over his chest.

"I’m joking, Damian. It’s what big brothers do. We make stupid jokes to make our little brothers feel a little less bad about getting into fights while defending others."

"That’s the thing. I _don’t_ feel bad about it. No-one understands that."

"Then let’s put it this way: I’m joking to make you feel a little less bad about _getting caught_ for punching the little shit."

Damian looks up to Dick who is smiling that mysterious smile of his while glancing at Damian out of the corner of his intensely blue eyes.

"Yeah. Let’s put it that way," Damian says. He seems somewhat surprised at Dick’s reaction.

From what Dick has heard Jason seems only to be amused whenever Damian gets into a fight but keeps on reminding him that Bruce won’t like it. And then there is Tim who just shakes his head and quietly points out how “disliked” Damian is at school. Most of the time the youngest Wayne just retorts that the correct term is “respected”, which Tim would know if he hung out with other guys and not the girls.

The young man can see that Damian appreciates it. The boy even smiles a bit, like he’d finally understood that he is part of the family and that at least Dick accepts him for exactly who he is and doesn’t wish him to change that.

Dick looks outside. He smiles a bit wider when they sink into a silence so comfortable and natural that it’s difficult to even think of it as anything else but a connection between the two of them.

And just for a moment, the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

– – –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo we're jumping four years forward, making Damian 14, Tim 18, Jason 20 and Dick 22.
> 
> Lil update, changed the dashes to quotations like noted in the first chapter.


	3. Broken family

Tim and Steph are sitting on the fence of the Browns’ porch next to each other. They are talking in quiet voices, mostly iterating everything Tim got Steph to remember about physics for her essay. Steph is smart but Tim is a genius. So when Steph asked Tim to come over and help her with the essay, Tim said yes. High-school physics is child’s play for a guy who has hacked every known intelligence agency in the world.

Jason promised he would pick Tim up after he finished work but he is already fifteen minutes late. With Damian being a total bitch about schedules it’s very unusual that he is so late. But just as Tim glances at his clock and thinks about Jason, the young man’s car pulls up at the Brown family driveway. Tim jumps down from the fence and blows Steph a kiss as goodbye. The blonde girl cracks up and waves her hand to Tim.

Jason is rolling his eyes and pushes the passenger door open.

“Your girlfriend is pretty, little T. You too look a bit alike.”

“Shut up, Jason. We’re friends.”

“Whatever you say, baby bird,” Jason teases and takes a sip of his coffee in a to-go cup.

“Are you late because you stopped to get _coffee?_ ” Tim demands to know. Jason’s expression falls.

“Let’s say so.”

Only now Tim notices the light bruise on Jason’s arm and the scratches in his wrists.

“Or is it work? What happened?” Tim queries but Jason just presses his foot angrily on the gas. The car jumps forward.

“You should mind your own business. Besides, the asshole was begging for it. And he got lucky, I’m telling you. If he acts like that on the streets he’s going to find himself in a lot worse condition very soon.”

“Think in a broader scale. How is Damian ever going to get over himself and become even half a decent person if you beat up guys at work and then preach to him how he shouldn’t hit anyone?”

“Let Dick handle the preaching. He already is more of a father in this dead-beat family than Bruce. And Damian listens to him,” Jason mutters.

“Dick is great but not exactly a role model, Jay!” Tim snorts, angry at Jason’s impassive attitude. Jason gives his words a little laugh.

“You’re just jealous because he found something he’s good at, enjoys _and_ can turn into a profession. Do you even know what enjoying means?”

Tim winces at Jason’s aggressive question.

“His ‘job’ takes him to Gotham _at night_. Besides, it’s not a secret Dick probably _still_ flings in and out during the nights, despite the fact Bruce banned it. What if the pretentious little demon ends up thinking it’s cool to run around Gotham at night and gets beat up?” Tim explains. His older brother starts laughing again but there’s no joy in his voice.

“You don’t care about him getting beat up, T! You’re worried that Bruce is going to be mad at us for letting his _real_ son get hurt.”

“Oh, please, Jay!” Tim huffs, “you crave for Bruce’s attention just as bad, don’t you? That’s why you keep on getting those warnings, isn’t it?”

Okay, that was pushing it. Tim feels almost sorry for saying the words out loud. Almost. 

“Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business?”

“I think you did. Stop the car. I’m walking home.”

Jason pulls over and reaches over Tim to open the door for him. He gestures out and raises his eyebrows.

“Feel free. At least I don’t have to listen to your bitching all the time.”

Tim gets out of the car and slams the door shut behind him. He pushes his hands into his pockets and starts walking toward Wayne Manor.

His head is spinning. He and Jason have fought roughly every day ever since day one. (Well, a little less ever since Damian came in.) But of lately it has started to feel worse, hurt more. He feels exhausted and fed up. Into fighting, into yelling, into the pain it causes.

He knows he cares too much. But the alternative isn’t exactly appealing.

Besides, his family is the only thing he has left. He wants to protect that.

– – –

“Where’s Timmy?” Dick asks when Jason stomps inside. The younger man throws his arms in the air as a sign that he seriously couldn’t care less.

“Jay, where’s Timmy?” Dick asks again.

“He got off some two miles back. We argued. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.”

Dick nods. He looks sad. It makes Jason feel a bit bad but his anger flushes the feeling away. He jumps the stairs three at a time but in the midway Dick calls his name softly. Jason stops and grits his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“We’re brothers, Jay. Remember that. You don’t want to talk but do you want company?”

“No,” Jason mumbles scowling in anger. Dick nods again.

Jason turns back and takes the rest of the stairs in two steps. Damian is leaning against Jason’s door frame, waiting for him.

“What do you want, brat?”

“Heard you got a warning at work, Todd,” Damian mocks, grinning in a sadistic manner.

It’s no news Jason got a warning. But if Tim was the only one who knew… that only leaves one person could’ve told Damian. It strikes more painfully than Jason thinks it should.

“Tim?”

“I don’t know what you said to him but it has to be something bad. You two have always stuck together against me. Drake may hate me but at the moment he hates you even more. How does it feel, Todd?”

“Get out of my way, you little asshole,” Jason commands and pushes Damian aside. The boy stumbles in surprise, seeking for balance. Before Damian has enough time to test his limits with Jason again, the young man slams his door shut and locks it behind him.

Two hours later he has had enough of hitting his head into the wall and decides to sneak out to apologize to Tim. He finds Alfred standing behind his door, just about to knock on it.

“What do you want?”

Alfred’s wise smile doesn’t even waver. He hands Jason a tray of food.

“I came to bring you your dinner, master Jason. Assuming you don’t wish to join us on the dinner table?”

“Thanks, Alfie. Where’s Tim?”

“In his room, I believe. He has declined of dinner, too.”

“I’m going to apologize to him,” Jason informs resolutely and walks around Alfred, handing the tray back to the butler.

“Wise choice, master Jason,” the butler mutters after him.

Jason walks around the corner and knocks on Tim’s door.

“I already told you, I’m not coming to dinner, Dick!” Tim yells. He sounds upset and hurt. Jason knocks again.

“It’s me,” he says.

The room falls into a perfect silence. After a moment the door opens. Tim is standing in the doorway, hair all ruffled up, expression cold and dark. He is holding his blanket in a death grip.

“You want something?” Tim asks.

“Yeah.”

“Spill.”

“I’m sorry,” Jason says. He has to push the words out of his mouth. He hates apologizing. And it doesn’t help that Tim looks unimpressed.

“I didn’t mean what I said back at the car –“

“Yes, you did,” Tim interrupts, “and you’re right. I couldn’t care less if the little demon got beat up.”

“No. I was wrong, I know you care. You may think you hate him but we’re brothers,” Jason points out. Tim grits his teeth.

Finally he closes his eyes and sighs.

“Apology accepted. And I’m sorry too.”

“No need to be,” Jason says quietly and grins.

Tim steps aside and gestures inside. Jason walks in and throws himself on Tim’s bed. Tim sits on his computer chair and shuts the display wall down. Once again Jason has to shake his head in puzzlement as he looks around Tim’s room.

Every one of them got to design their rooms as they wished. Tim decided to turn his room into the CIA headquarters. He has a wall full of touch screens attached to each other so that you can slide things from a screen to another or put on one big picture. He can control the touch screens also by linking his laptop on the USB-port he added into his bed.

And if it isn’t enough that the room _looks_ like CIA hq, Tim uses it like one. Jason hasn’t asked what the little stalker actually does all days but it looks like he is playing a precocious little teen detective.

“So, what are you up to, baby bird? Breaking cases for detectives who aren’t clever enough to do their own jobs?” Jason suggests teasingly. Tim smirks and switches the display wall on.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Only if isn’t anything gross, we’re having dinner in fifteen. Though, I’ll eat in my room.”

Tim rolls his chair over to the bed and puts on his latest investigations. Files start to pop up, one by one, painting out a picture of everything Tim has collected so far. Jason’s eyes widen and he pushes himself to a sitting position.

There are pictures of Bruce doing business meetings around the globe. Everyone who he has met, all of his flight plans, time tables, everything.

“You have been tracking Bruce?” Jason asks. Anger rises inside of him. How does Tim _dare?_

“Doesn’t it strike you as weird?”

“What? That he makes business trips? Wayne Enterprises is a global company. You know that.”

“Yeah. But this latest trip, he has been away a month straight. The one before lasted over three weeks. And it has only begun after Damian came in. Four years, Jason. During which he has barely seen Damian, like he was trying to avoid him.”

“Avoid… are you hearing yourself? You think Bruce would do that to him, _to us?_ ”

“Well, at first I thought it was that. I was so mad at Damian for intruding our family. I hated him so much I wanted to find any reason to justify my hate. Aside from him being an ass. But then I found something else.”

Tim presses another key. New pictures start to flow up onto the screen. They are pictures of a woman. Of Talia al Ghul.

“Really, Timmy? Isn’t it enough you stalk Bruce but Damian’s mom too? Like what is wrong with you?”

“Look,” Tim says simply. Talia’s flight plans flow out to the screens. Tim gets up and places them over Bruce’s. They match almost perfectly. Their timetables put them in the same cities exactly at the same time. Tim is about to show Jason even more but the young man jumps up and slams the laptop shut.

“No. Stop this. If Bruce was doing his trips to meet with Talia, he’d tell us. And besides it’s his fucking business. Like I have told a few times already you should mind your own stuff. Stay out of other people’s lives!” Jason shouts and marches out of the room.

He doesn’t even know why he’s so angry about Tim tracking Bruce. Because it would mean Bruce lied to them? Because it actually makes sense? Because he’s afraid it’s true?

He slides down to the hall only to see Dick in the kitchen doorway.

“Jay?”

“I’m going out.”

“Jay, please –“

“Uh-uh. Don’t you even try,” Jason commands, “’we’re brothers’ what bullshit! You try so hard to be Bruce but let me tell you something – you’re not! You’re not our father, can never be. So be honest with yourself for a change. This family is broken, has always been and will always be!”

The hall falls into a painfully loud silence.

Jason inhales furiously, waiting for a reaction. _Bruce_ would chastise, insult or blame him for not trying hard enough, for not being good enough. But Dick isn’t Bruce.

“Okay,” Dick whispers.

It would be easier if he yelled, if he blamed Jason for _anything_. But he just stands there watching Jason with that disappointed, sad look in his eyes.

Jason slams the door shut behind him so that he doesn’t have to see Dick hurting.

– – –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A glimpse of Stephanie in this chapter, we'll see more of her a bit later.


	4. Homecoming

Jason is out. Tim has locked himself in his room. Damian has resided to his room with a hoard of food due to some large school project.

Dick sits alone in the dinner table. He knows how annoyed Alfred gets when the dinner table is empty so he submits to his part and allows Alfred to serve him a fancy one-man dinner in the dining room far too big for only one person

His usual brightness is gone and posture slumped. He’s leaning against his left arm while silently brooding.

Alfred clears his throat behind Dick. The young man skims over his shoulder.

“Master Richard, is everything alright?”

“I’m fine, Alfie.”

“You’re a horrible liar, Richard.”

“I am, ain’t I?” Dick chuckles miserably and moves to sit sideways in his chair.

“Let me rephrase my question. What is wrong, master Richard?” Alfred says in his very unique gentle tone.

“Jason is right. I try too hard. To be Bruce, to keep the family together,” the acrobat mumbles, “maybe we’re doomed falling apart.”

“Mm. I do not find things that way. You’re doing well, master Richard. Setting up peace time after time isn’t easy, especially in this family.”

“But I shouldn’t have to! Where’s Bruce when they need him?”

“He’s arriving tonight, Dick.”

Dick stretches backwards to see around Alfred. Tim walks into the room with empty dishes. Alfred takes them and leaves the two alone into the dining room. Tim sits next to Dick.

“Jason only said those things because he was mad at me,” Tim claims, “he looks up to you. We all do.”

“Timmy, I’m fine. It’s okay.”

“It shouldn’t be! Why don’t you fight back, tell him it’s not okay? Why do you just turn another cheek for him to hit?”

“He’s my brother. If I can’t accept him for who he is, who can?” Dick asks, his voice pleading Tim to understand.

Tim falls quiet and blinks. He looks like he suddenly did understand everything the young man stands for, the reasoning behind his every action.

“You should go after him,” Dick says to Tim. The younger boy raises his eyebrows in disbelief.

“Me?”

“You. He won’t listen to me, not now anyway,” Dick explains.

“Well, yeah but –”

“No buts, Timmy. Even if you two fight on daily basis, you know each other better than anyone.”

Tim smiles at Dick’s words. They feel good. More importantly, they feel _right._ He pushes himself up to his feet and heads to the door but turns around in midway.

“He’s probably out with the Outlaws. They are going to pick a fight with me,” Tim points out. Dick laughs gently.

“Tell Kori and Roy it’s a family matter. They’ll understand.”

“Hope so,” Tim mutters as he dives into the evening. The door slides shut after him.

Dick stands up moving in his smooth, confident way and notices someone from the corner of his eye. He turns around to address the person coming in, only to find it to be Alfred who has been politely waiting by the doorway for their short conversation to end.

“Thank you for the dinner, Alfred. It was magnificent, like always,” he thanks and grins.

“Pleased to hear, master Richard.”

Dick directs his steps toward the Wayne Manor gym. He knows that the best way to make worries go away is to fly away from them. But since Bruce is coming back tonight he can’t risk shaking his troubles by heading to the city.

Bruce has particularly banned Dick’s little joyrides to the Gotham nights, after that one time he came home all beat up and bruised. And as far as everyone in the family knows Dick is obeying the order. That’s the way Dick wants things to remain. So, gym it is.

“Who are the Outlaws?”

Dick glances at his left where Damian is leaning against the banister and observing Dick with curious eyes.

“Jason’s friends, Kori and Roy. You know them. They call their gang the Outlaws.”

“How come no-one ever told me they have a _gang name?_ Is that why Jason wears that ridiculous red helmet of his?” Damian inquires. Dick laughs quietly.

“I think he just likes the colour.”

“How stupid,” Damian mumbles and shakes his head. He throws himself over the banister and lands next to Dick.

“Gym?” Damian asks, looking mocking. Dick shrugs.

“Best to way to avoid family drama is to go somewhere no-one can follow.”

“Deep,” Damian sneers. There’s sarcasm in his voice. The acrobat shrugs again and glances at his little brother.

“Maybe.”

– – –

The Wayne Manor gym is actually a lot more than just a gym. It has all the newest equipment, a climbing wall, trapezes, a laser gun range and a lot of other cool stuff any 14-year-old would simply just love.

Damian is sitting on top of a sparring doll and watching Dick swing near the ceiling without a safety net. His movement are perfectly controlled, all of his muscles working in an unbreakable harmony. It looks like he’s flying.

Damian doesn’t know (or care for that matter) for how long he has just stared at Dick’s smooth, aerial performance. He doesn’t even blink, not before the older boy at last lands back on earth. It happens quickly. One moment Dick is hanging from a trapeze and the next he’s freefalling towards the floor.

“Grayson!” Damian yells, suddenly scared for his brother’s safety. There’s no safety net.

And then Dick hits the floor. There’s no sound as the young man makes a swift somersault and ends up back on his feet, unharmed.

“Show-off,” Damian mutters in frustration under his breath as Dick walks back to Damian with a smug smile on his ridiculously handsome face.

“I could’ve sworn you were afraid for me a second there.”

“Shut up, Grayson.”

“Gladly. Do you mind if I put on some music and rehearse my dancing?”

“It’s a big gym. Do what you please,” Damian mutters and pushes himself down. To mark the end of their conversation he hits the sparring doll a few times but he doesn’t put any feeling into it. Dick chuckles and shakes his head in amusement.

Fast music with strong bass starts to bang in the gym. Dick rewinds it time after time, trying to get his choreography right. Damian has never seen Dick dance before. He has seen Dick on the trapeze like a million times and one can tell just by the way he walks that he’s in full control of every single muscle in his body. But seeing him dance is something entirely different. It takes Damian by a total surprise.

His weight switches from his feet to one hand and back as easily as he would lift a finger. When he jumps, he flies through the air like gravity meant nothing to him. It looks like he barely touches the floor. The flying sensation Damian sees in him when he’s dancing in the air stays with him even when he’s dancing down on earth.

Damian shakes his head and brings himself back at what he was doing. He gives the sparring doll a strong kick and proceeds to circle it, giving it strikes and kicks from multiple angles.

They both stop as Alfred shows up at the gym doors.

“Master Bruce is here.”

That’s all he says. And then he’s gone. Dick stops the music and follows Alfred out. Damian joins him after switching off the gym lights.

Bruce looks tired when he stomps into the hallway. Both Tim and Jason come in after him and it looks like they’ve finally made peace. At least for a little while.

“Hello, boys. Good to be home,” Bruce greets, making a weak attempt to smile even though he’s clearly exhausted. “I brought something with me.”

Alfred brings in a huge dog. It’s a grey-coloured Great Dane – just a puppy – but already big. Jason scowls with disgust. Tim jumps backwards. Dick tilts his head and reaches his hand to scratch it behind the ears.

“What _is_ that?” Tim asks. He stares at the dog with suspicion.

“A dog, Drake. A Great Dane,” Damian responds and shakes his head with a pitying look frozen over his face.

“Very funny.”

“Oh, it’s adorable,” Dick laughs, “when you’re used to having lions and elephants as pets, it’s nice to have something normal clinging to your side for a change.”

Damian grins.

“So what are we going to call it?”

“As the youngest you should pick,” Dick suggests. Damian’s grin widens a bit.

“Let’s call him Titus.”

“Seriously, Damian?” Jason demands, “General Titus? You do know he is the most murderous and gruesome general in drama literature?”

“Figures,” Tim murmurs.

“I’m surprised you even know who he is, Todd,” Damian retorts, giving his older brother a crooked smile.

“Timmy, Jay please don’t start. And Damian, don’t say a thing. Bruce is finally home so let’s not ruin the family reunion with bickering and snarky comments, please?” Dick begs and steps in front of Bruce. “Welcome home, Father.”

Dick and Bruce hug. Damian rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother to say a thing since Dick is technically his only ally in the Manor. He can’t risk losing that. He would count Pennyworth as an ally too if the old butler wasn’t so incredibly unbiased.

“And I have news for you,” Bruce announces.

The obscure group of brothers exchange puzzled glances.

“I’m leaving again in two weeks,” Bruce sighs, “so this is going to be rather like a routine check on you than an actual homecoming.”

– – –


	5. Just us again

7.03am. Wayne Manor. Breakfast table.

It has been two weeks since Bruce came home with Titus. Yesterday he left, again. So it’s the first day the brothers are alone in the Manor. (Alfred doesn’t count. He’s always there.)

For a change things have been calm. Weird but calm. For Bruce’s sake they all had put on a polished act and tried to avoid conflicts as much as possible. Well, except for Jason maybe. But that’s just who he is, Damian reminds himself.

But it’s all just an act. There is one thing Damian, Tim and Jason _have_ found a wordless agreement on, though. They will all pretend that the temporary peace has lasted because Dick prayed for them to spare Bruce of their childish behaviour. _No-one must admit that they actually kind of like this mutual conspiracy._

But now Bruce is gone again. Repressing new insults and nicknames is over.

The breakfast table has been turned into a battleground.

After a few inefficient efforts Dick won’t even try to stop them from fighting because he knows he can’t. The extra pressures need to be blown out somehow. The only reason he is listening anymore is so that he can assess the damage they cause. And then when they have hurt each other so badly that no-one has anything more to say he _can_ fix everything again.

Jason keeps on insisting that Dick isn’t Bruce, that Dick isn’t their father. And he’s right, of course. But Dick is something else. He’s their brother. He can be annoying from time to time and he has his flaws but he tries nevertheless. That’s why he can fix everything (almost) every single time.

But despite this, the classic battle between the three youngest Wayne brothers is on.

Damian and Tim have bent over the table exchanging insults they have had two weeks to hone and polish. At first both of them have mean grins on their faces – like it’s a game they are playing – but then it shifts into a serious, full-waging war.

Jason just sits there arms crossed behind his head. He tried to lift his feet on the table but Alfred’s emotionless glance got him to change his mind. Whenever both Tim and Damian stop to draw in breath he tosses in a joke or two to get them fired up again.

“Little demon seed!” Tim yells.

“Who you calling little, you stalker?!”

“Oh, only I get to call him stalker, little D,” Jason interjects.

“Shut up, Todd. I’ll tell when your opinion is appreciated,” Damian retorts giving him barely a glance out of the corner of his eye.

“Spoiled and pretentious asshole!” Tim rasps to get Damian’s attention back. The boy’s head snaps into Tim’s direction.

“Precocious –”

Damian doesn’t get any further as Jason starts to laugh.

“Aren’t you one to talk?” Jason chuckles. Damian’s eyes narrow. His fingers wrap around a glass of water but Dick places his hand over Damian’s shoulder, giving him a meaningful look before the boy flips the water on Jason’s face.

“That’s right, listen to big D!” Jason sings.

“Cute, Jay.”

It’s surprising to hear Dick talk. It catches them off guard. Deafening silence takes over the room.

“Do continue, please,” Dick provokes, “it’s all very entertaining. My personal favourite is probably ‘Dick’s family peace gone to hell’ but there are many good options. I truly have to admire your imagination.”

He stands up and smiles at their stunned reactions.

“I have a gig tonight. So don’t wait me up. Please don’t kill each other while I’m gone. I’m so not explaining _that_ to Bruce.”

Then he exits the room.

“Did Grayson just…?”

“I think so,” Jason confirms.

Dick is bailing on them on a traditional game night. On the first day of each time Bruce leaves on a business trip they have orchestrated a Wayne brothers’ game night – cards, video games or anything else that they can think of – to defuse their disagreements through harmless games.

They are usually pretty nice nights even if Damian would never admit it out loud. Those nights make him feel like he belongs in this family, like these were his real brothers. Their disagreements seem peculiar, puny and faraway. They’ll still nag and bitch at each other of course but it isn’t serious – it’s brotherly.

But then when the game night is over everything returns to the same pattern. The same jokes that felt funny and playful on the game night will hurt and stir up anger if repeated.

“So,” Jason begins and wakes Damian up from his thoughts, “should we still do the game night?”

“Whatever, Todd.”

“We should,” Tim declares.

“If I get to pick the edibles,” Damian insists. Tim snorts.

“Why?”

“I don’t trust your taste in foods to be eligible enough for my refined tastes, Drake.”

Tim scowls but accepts Damian’s condition. The message comes in clear – anything as long as Damian just shuts up.

Damian grins and slaps his hands together.

“It’s going to be the best game night ever,” he promises.

– – –

The club is poorly lighted, loud and smoky. The air is so hot it’s suffocating.

Dick has his hood tossed over his head so that his face is difficult to see under it. He makes his way to the back room door and knocks on it.

“Personnel only,” someone says behind him. Dick turns around and notices a middle-aged bartender wiping a glass while leaning against the bar.

“I’m Nightwing,” he answers. The bartender scowls.

“You’re a kid.”

Dick allows the hood to drop so the man can see the black mask covering his eyes and most of his cheeks. He didn’t want to show his mask before the show, since his performance always comes as a surprise. It’s part of the fun, actually. No-one knows who Nightwing is and where he is going to perform next.

The bartender looks at him for a second, still sceptical, but opens the back door to him.

Dick smiles as he goes in and finds an old man yelling at a waitress who apparently screwed something up.

“Evening. Are you Mr. Holland?” Dick calls. Mr. Holland turns to his direction, ready to snap something sharp at him but then he notices the mask and Dick’s gloves. Black and elastic, with blue fingerstripes. There’s only one person with gloves like that.

“I am indeed, Mr. Nightwing. I was waiting for you.”

“Excellent. May I have a place to switch clothing?”

“Ah, sure. Suzy!” Mr. Holland yells. Under ten seconds later a blonde girl steps around the corner. She has to draw in a quick breath when she notices Dick standing next to her boss.

“Yes, Mr. Holland?” Suzy asks after swallowing nervously.

“Show Nightwing here a room. He needs to prepare for his performance.”

“Yes, Mr Holland!” Suzy promises. She gestures Dick to follow before she spins around and skitters into the opposite direction. Dick follows her to a door which she opens with a code number. She drags out a pen and piece of paper.

“This is the code to the door,” the girl tells him, “don’t worry. Only I and Mr. Holland have all the codes. So if something is out of place, you know who to blame.”

Dick’s smile reveals his teeth.

“Thank you, Suzy.”

She looks ready to black out right there but is able to pull herself together. She tells that if he needs anything, all he’ll have to do is stick his head outside the room and yell. Dick nods and locks himself into the room.

In truth he has changed clothes already. The gloves are actually part of his one-piece suit. He takes off the jeans, the biker jacket and drops his backpack on a chair in the corner. Then he spins around in front of the mirror.

His suit is all black except for wide blue stripes that cross over his chest and upper-back and then flow down his arms. The stripes end over his index and middle fingers. His mask is black and looks a bit like wings spread across his face. He switches his weight over to his hands and then jumps back on his feet. Okay. Everything is good.

He steps out of the room. Suzy jumps out from the shadows and snaps to perfect posture, looking ready to salute Dick like an army general.

“You need anything, Nightwing?”

“A stage,” Dick says grinning, “and some music.”

“Will do! Follow me,” the girl announces and flies away. Her enthusiasm and admiration make Dick feel good and confident when he follows her to a door at the end of a narrow hallway.

He slides in from the door to a dark stage and lies down.

The music begins. Lights switch on and flood the stage with vivid blue.

Dick’s body starts moving without a special thought. The music controls his movements, guiding his feet on the small stage. He completely forgets about the choreography and follows the sound. His every move is perfect, hypnotizing and natural.

The bass is his heartbeat. The music is in his blood, rushing through his veins. Dick glances over his audience. They are imprisoned by his dance, held captive by his gaze.

His conscious mind falls back as instincts take control. The air carries his body from move to move so effortlessly that even he himself can’t tell where one move ends, and another one begins. His dance is an eternal flow, an unbreakable rhythm.

The turning point is close. Dick can feel it in his body. The music rises and rises, forcing him to follow. Then it crashes leaving _him_ to make the show's ending spectacular and unique.

Dick’s body is high in the air before he can even think about it. He’s flying. He turns time after time with endless twists before landing on his fingers and dropping his body into a flexible impossibility. Then at last when the music dies away, his body falls in smooth control back onto the floor where he began. Only the bass is left, making his chest rise on its rhythm.

Silence takes control of the club. The blue lights fade away.

Dick closes his eyes gasping for breath.

The whole audience bursts into applauds. Dick smiles and jumps on to his feet. He bows ten or maybe twenty times and disappears into the backstage.

He sneaks into the room assigned to him and tries to stabilize his heartbeat before the second round.

For Nightwing one performance is never enough.

– – –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So about Dicks Nightwing persona. He performs as a dancer around Gotham but no-one knows who's under the mask. He just contacts the club owners who then usually allow him perform. In the early years of his career he danced under his own name and the family thinks he still does so they don't know who Nightwing is either.


	6. Game night

They have locked themselves into Tim’s room. The boy has arranged his display screen into four sections – one for each of them and a setting section that runs statistics, chat room and everything else required for a perfect video game night.

They flipped Tim’s bed sideways so that they would all have enough space. All around them lays empty coke cans, beer bottles (for Jason), half-eaten chip bags and empty candy wrappers. Tim set one screen in the setting section to play them some music. Most of which are songs from action movies and video games.

“Ha! There you have it, Drake!” Damian yells as words “you died” flash over Tim’s screen.

“What the hell, Damian?” Tim lets out, “how did you…?”

“Your ‘plan’ had a hole in it. Just like your character has now.”

Jason starts laughing. Tim narrows his eyes at the two but his character jumps quickly back in action and he doesn’t have time to focus on them.

It doesn’t take him long to deduce and eliminate the fault in his plan. In two minutes, Damian’s screen lights up with the familiar red words.

“What?!”

“Your voice cracks when you get angry, D,” Jason remarks. It doesn’t help to calm him down.

In half an hour the game ends (Damian won, like he usually does) and Damian announces that this is his cue for more drinks.

“I’ll go get them. That is unless Alfred catches me and insists that he brings them.”

With that Damian sneaks into the dark corridor.

“So, Damian holds our record in video games. You rule the card games, except poker because Dick is like the best poker player ever, and I’d kick your asses in a fight,” Jason lists, “is there anything in which we _don’t_ know who wins?”

“First of all, Damian doesn’t always win video games. Dick would sweep the floor with you and Damian might too if he was a little older. And admittedly, I’m not _that_ much of a dictator in cards,” Tim answers.

“Admittedly, baby bird,” Jason laughs, “and I’m going to deny everything if you ever mention this to anyone but these game nights feel right. I hope we could always get along like this.”

Tim smiles and he feels suddenly happier than in ages.

“Me too.”

This, right here, is a good moment. No hate. No anger. It feels right.

This family could use more of that. A lot more.

“Okay, losers. Ready for round two? I’m so kicking your asses without even breaking a sweat,” Damian declares after busting in with a six-pack of coke and beer.

The moment of peace shatters around Tim. He turns his fed-up gaze at the ceiling.

God, how he hates Damian.

– – –

The show is over and Dick is standing outside of the club. He’s still thinking about whether to go home and join the boys for the rest of the game night (Tim has kept him updated about how bad the situation is) or to leave the backpack somewhere and wander around a little.

Well, he already is in the city, right? And the boys are doing fine. So if he made just a short round it wouldn’t be bad, would it?

“Ah, to hell with it!” Dick hisses and decides to dump the bag into a coin locker at the nearest mall.

In less than ten minutes he’s sitting at the edge of some roof, watching the city lights flicker in the spring night. Then he jumps off.

Swinging from rooftop to another makes him feel free. The night wind blows through his hair and makes his eyes tear up. He loves to keep his eyes open all the time – even when he’s flying over emptiness, head facing the ground hundreds of feet away.

Dick lands over a low rooftop and something catches his attention.

A scream.

He glances over the edge to see. A woman, pushed against the alley wall by a man a feet taller and hundred pounds heavier than her. He’s holding a gun at her face and orders her (in bad English) to hand over everything valuable she has. And also something else Dick’s ears don’t quite catch. He narrows his eyes and stands up.

He takes a few steps back and before he can tell himself this isn’t wise he’s already in the air.

Dick takes advantage of a fire escape on the alley and uses its fences to swing himself down. His feet don’t make a sound when he lands into the shadows behind the man.

He knows he can’t trust that the woman won’t accidentally give him away so he needs to be quick. Timing has to be perfect.

There. The woman hands over her purse for the thief to go through. His concentration breaks and his hand automatically falls lower a bit.

Dick slides into vision from the shadows and grabs the guy’s hand. His fingers find the nerve centre in the thief’s arm and press it so that the gun clatters to the ground. Dick kicks it away. Then he hits the guy into the face with his elbow. The thief collapses into his feet, writhing in the ground screaming and cursing.

The woman is staring at him, scared and speechless.

“Here,” Dick says and passes her the purse. Before she can even thank him, he’s gone. He stays in the shadows to see that she gets safely back to the crowded streets. Dick gives the thief one last look before he climbs the fire escape like it was nothing and returns to the mall to retrieve his bag.

This one “situation” is enough to tire him. He uses the rooftops and big trees to get back to Manor since he didn’t take money for a cab. And feeling the cool night wind on his skin helps him to clear his head.

He’s already sitting on his windowsill when he realises that if the guys are awake, he’ll have to use the front door.

Then the door to his room opens.

Dick doesn’t have enough time to even panic when he’s brought eye to eye with Alfred. The butler was bringing in fresh towels and something to eat after a rough night but he freezes totally when he notices Dick sitting on the other side of the glass. The old man blinks quickly and when he opens his eyes again, Dick is gone.

The young acrobat pushes the front doors opens just as Alfred is returning downstairs. Titus is following the butler around, restless because it has been locked out from Tim's room where all the fun (and Damian) is at.

“Evening, master Richard.”

“Evening, Alfred.”

“May I tell you, sir, I saw something rather surprising just a moment ago,” Alfred begins.

“Oh, really? What is it?” Dick asks, walks to the kitchen and grabs a coke can. (Seriously Damian, like Tim couldn’t have predicted that?) Titus whines quietly at Dick's feet. Absentmindedly the young man scratches the dog behind its ears.

“I couldn’t really get a good look at what I saw but I could’ve sworn I saw you, master Richard, sitting outside the window.”

“Like, in the ground?” Dick revises and opens the can.

“Right _outside_ it.”

“Alfred, the second floor is 15 feet above ground. How could I possibly end up there?”

“That’s what I thought,” Alfred says meaningfully, “maybe a trick my eyes played on me?”

“This world never ceases to amaze,” Dick confirms grinning and pats Alfred on the shoulder, “I’ll hit the gym and take a shower. I promise I will shut everything down after so you won’t have to wait me up.”

“The young masters are making quite a _show_ ,” Alfred sighs when they hear something drop and crash in the upstairs, “I think it is best I wait for them to call it a night.”

“Good luck with that,” Dick laughs and starts to slowly stroll towards the gym. Titus settles down in Alfred's feet and stares wistfully after Dick like wishing he would take the dog to Damian. The acrobat tries not to feel guilty for leaving the boys alone.

“May I ask why you aren’t joining them, master Richard?”

Dick stops and glimpses quickly at Alfred before turning his eyes to the direction of the noise his brothers are making.

“They have called a truce in order to carry out the traditional game night with pride. I want them to see they can do it all the way – without me. I won’t always be there to force peace on them, you know? And this way they can feel like they accomplished something they all felt was impossible. Bruce would be proud of them. I think that’s one reason they are still trying to go through this – to show both themselves and Bruce we can be a family.”

Dick knows Alfred is smiling even without looking. He can feel it. Alfred presses his palm over Dick’s shoulder.

“Master Richard, you know that is not entirely true. They are doing that well because of _you._ ”

Dick smiles sadly.

“How I wish that was true, Alfred.”

Dick picks up his intention to go to the gym and leaves Alfred alone into the kitchen.

– – –


	7. A trick on my eyes

“You _know_ I’m… gay, right?”

Tim’s words cause Damian to stop his petty wrangling and lose concentration when he turns to stare at Tim. Jason presses the advantage and shoots the youngest boy in the back. Damian growls with anger as his screen flashes red.

“You disturbed my game, Drake!”

“Quit your complaints, brat. You were calling my little brother with names I’m not sure are even English,” Jason interferes. Damian mutters something but for once doesn’t bother to throw a fit.

“But seriously, you are?” the boy finally humbles to ask.

“Hah! Like you couldn’t tell already!” Jason smirks. Tim scowls at him.

“You know Conner Kent from Metropolis football team? I bet you’ve seen him. I used to date him before… before you moved in,” Tim says.

“Hm. Before everything went to hell, am I right?”

“He’s good,” Jason remarks, pointing at the boy. Damian’s eyebrows furrow and Tim glares at Jason.

“You have made it clear you don’t like me,” Damian says shrugging, “but don’t worry, the feeling is totally mutual.”

“You know you aren’t exactly easy to like?” Tim reminds. Jason whistles quietly. And just when he thought this was going so well.

“Not my problem.”

Jason grimaces. The whole night was going badly sideways and _fast._

“This must be how Dick feels all the time,” Jason sighs. Both Tim and Damian freeze. They stare at each other and Jason can see their brains ticking.

“You know, Jason is gay too,” Tim says suddenly. Damian’s eyes narrow. Then he grins in a manner that can only described as malicious.

“Right. _Jaybird_ ,” he snickers. Jason flushes. This is certainly not what he was going for.

“Roy is my friend and he’s an idiot,” he announces, “I broke his jaw the first time he called me that but he’s… insistent.”

“On another note, what’s with this family and birds?” Damian asks, “I mean, like, Harper calls you Jaybird. You call Tim baby bird. And then there’s our actual bird Grayson.”

“Kon called me pretty bird. That’s where it comes,” Tim says quietly.

“Drake, please, I want no details of your relationships,” Damian growls out.

“What about you, brat?”

Jason is surprised to see Damian wince. The little demon thought of someone, clearly.

“Spit it out!” Jason pushes, “you are obviously thinking of someone!”

“A girl?” Tim guesses.

“No!” Damian denies.

“A guy?” Jason teases.

“No! Not anyone!”

“Fine. But this is not over, little D,” Jason declares. At the same moment their screens light up. The game is over. Jason wins since Damian was pretty… occupied during most of the game. Damian just snorts and shakes his head.

They bicker over something petty and pointless but the mood stays debatably good. After a few minutes of quibbling they return to the game.

When Jason wakes up on the next morning, he’s lying on the floor but he has no idea how he ended up in there. Tim’s head is resting against his shoulder, his hand stretched across Jason chest. Damian has made a nest out of blankets and candy wrappers. He has probably kicked Jason and Tim to the floor in his sleep.

Jason lifts his head but hangover hits him hard with a sharp slap. He groans and slouches back down.

Tim yawns and accidentally claws Jason’s skin. Jason feels _something_ rush through him. He doesn’t know what it is but he has a feeling that it’s nothing good. He glances at Tim who is still sleeping safe and sound.

He looks… fragile. Somehow vulnerable. Tim’s long, dark hair is hanging over his eyes. Jason brushes the tresses away and smiles. His baby bird, his little Tim. Then the boy yawns again and moves sharply. Jason is caught off guard so he pushes Tim away, waking him in the process.

“Whaaaa…”

Tim’s question turns into a muffled mumble because Jason presses his hand over Tim’s mouth.

“Hush. I think the demon is still sleeping. Don’t wake him up,” Jason whispers.

“Todd, I can hear you,” Damian mutters.

“Damn.”

– – –

After they clean up the mess they made in Tim’s room (Alfred declined to clean it up after he saw it…) Damian sneaks to Dick’s room and knocks.

“It’s open,” Dick mutters. His voice is rough from sleep. Damian walks in and glances around.

Dick’s clothes form a trail from the door to the bed. Apparently when he came in, he was too lazy to slip under the covers so he’s just lying on the mattress in his boxers. His eyes are closed but when Damian approaches, he opens them. The intensity of the blue in his eyes is almost enough to knock the breath out of Damian’s lungs.

The acrobat pats the bed next to him. Damian walks over and allows himself to collapse down to the open spot.

“You did it on purpose.”

“What’d I do on purpose?” Dick asks, speech still slurred of sleep.

“Set me, Drake and Todd do the game night with only the three of us,” Damian replies, making his words sound like an accusation.

Dick chuckles. He looks guilty, never mind the fact that he's shaking his head.

“Wish I had. I heard it went well.”

“Define ‘well’,” Damian mumbles.

Dick pushes himself up to rest his weight on his elbows and raises his eyebrows at Damian who is glaring daggers at him with his dark, hard eyes.

“No-one got killed?” Dick suggests. Damian tries to hide his smile.

“Not funny, Grayson.”

“You could call me Dick.”

“Not funny, Dick,” Damian repeats. Dick smiles and he just looks so glad and happy that it melts Damian’s anger away. It’s unfair, really. He’s trying to show Grayson that he doesn’t like being played and the sly travesty of a young man goes and makes him _smile._

“You should smile a little more,” Dick says, “it suits you.”

“Shut up, Gr… Dick.”

Dick’s smile turns into a grin. Damian can’t stop the smile coming up anymore and gives out a little laugh.

“Oh, it can’t laugh too!” Dick exclaims in fake surprise.

“Grayson!”

And suddenly Damian is serious again.

“Your secret is safe with me,” Dick promises valiantly. Damian grabs a pillow and hits Dick with it but the young man just laughs and takes vengeance. They start wrestling on the bed, laughing and growling at each other until Alfred stops at Dick’s doorway and stares at them in confusion. He’s blinking rapidly like he didn’t believe what his eyes are seeing.

Damian clears his throat and places the pillow neatly back on the bed.

Then he marches away.

“Another trick on my eyes?” Alfred inquires. Dick nods.

“If anyone asks.”

Alfred smiles gently and continues down the hallway. Dick shakes his head and reaches for his jeans.

His smile may have washed off his lips some time during the day but his eyes won’t ever stop smiling.

– – –


	8. D is for dinners and drama

It has been two days since the game night and things have been surprisingly calm. It’s probably due to the fact they have all spent most of their time out, and therefore haven’t gotten so much in each other’s way.

Damian hears someone kicking on his door. The boy turns around in his computer chair just to see Jason standing by the door.

“Dinner,” he says. “We’re going to eat out at some place Timmy came across with Steph one day. We leave in ten.”

“Is Brown coming?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I’m not coming.”

“Yes, you are. Now get your pretty little ass out here!” Jason declares. Something in his tone tells Damian this isn’t negotiable.

Damian sighs. He shuts down the computer and drags himself over to the closet. After a minute of indecisive opting he picks the new suit he had commissioned a few days ago.

When he’s tying the tie his eyes catch something moving in the edge of his vision. He glances out of the window – only to see nothing – and just when he’s about to look away, something moves again. When Damian realizes what it is he has to rub his eyes in disbelief. It’s Dick. The young man is balancing on a branch of the old oak outside Damian’s window. Then he just jumps off, bouncing off the wall for more momentum. The boy’s mouth is about to drop open.

“He…”

“Just a trick on your eyes, master Damian,” Alfred says behind him, “may I say your new suit looks sharp, sir.”

“Satisfactory, Pennyworth.”

Tim walks past them and rolls his eyes. Damian shoots a murderous glare at him. Alfred’s face stays totally blank, for what Damian has to admire the old butler. The man won’t even blink when Damian walks past him into the corridor and after Tim. The two brothers don’t talk but at least they don’t argue either. They end up walking out of the door side by side.

“Wow!” Jason yells. “They were left alone for a minute and didn’t _even_ start a fight!”

“The annoyance Drake poses heightens when he talks,” Damian bridles, “the best way to avoid a headache is to keep him silent.”

“I was just about to say the same about you,” Tim mutters gnashing his teeth.

“Glad to be of service. Do me a favor and let me handle the talking in the future too.”

“So you can cause an international incident one day?”

“Very funny, Drake.”

“Oh, get over it you two, Dick pleads when they sit in and fasten their seatbelts. He starts the engine and they head out to the city. Damian notices how Dick has placed Damian on the front seat and Tim with Jason in the backseat to maintain peace. They pick Stephanie up from her house. Tim stands up to let Stephanie take the middle seat. Much to Damian’s dismay the blonde girl starts immediately talking.

He turns the radio volume up. Tim smacks Damian in the head.

“Do you have a death wish, Drake?” Damian hisses venomously.

“Is he always that horrible?” Stephanie asks from Jason. He shrugs.

“That’s he on a good mood.”

Damian opens his mouth to snap something vicious at Jason but Dick glances at him, his eyes begging Damian not to. Damian’s insult dries on his lips and he has to cough a few times to get his lungs to co-operate again.

“He’s definitely on a good mood,” Jason whispers, “there was no –”

“I _can_ hear you, Todd.”

“Whatever, brat.”

Stephanie leans on Tim and whispers something Damian can’t hear. Tim nods and then rolls his eyes.

“Oh, I know,” he says quietly.

The rest of the car ride is awkwardly silent. Dick saves them all by parking in front of the restaurant.

As they step in, a warm wave of scents splashes on their faces. Dick steps forward to speak with the hostess which Damian uses as an opportunity to look around. It’s a small, cozy place. Low ceiling wraps the smoky atmosphere nicely inside the crude brick walls. The wooden floor creaks under their steps when the hostess guides them to their table.

Their booth is in the back of the restaurant. Damian sits on the long bench next to the window. Dick sits next to him while Jason, Tim and Stephanie take over the other side. Damian ends up face to face with Jason.

A waitress brings them the menu. They decide what to eat in a blessing silence. After they give out their order, Tim and Stephanie start to gossip about some hot guy in their biology class. Jason and Damian begin to playfully fight over something petty just for the sake of calling each other with insulting names. Damian glances cautiously at the unusually silent Dick who is just sitting there, following both conversations and enjoying the fact they’re all gathered together at one table and not arguing.

They tone down a bit when the waitress arrives with their food but Damian is proceeding on full speed at the precise moment she’s out of hearing range.

“You seem to suffer of severe memory loss,” Damian snaps.

“Keep telling that to yourself!” Jason mocks, “I’m telling you fair and square that we did not get arrested that night.”

“Then why did Dick pick you up from the police station, dimwit?”

“Roy lost his phone and wallet, you overcurious little demon!”

“But you called Dick from his phone? You’re digging out the ground beneath yourself, Todd,” Damian reminds. Jason scowls but the boy just gives Jason a smug smile.

“Why does any of this matter?” Tim interrupts.

“Stay out of this, Drake.”

“Oh, gladly.”

– – –

A bit later Dick is returning from the restroom and seeks out their table. From afar he can see Damian bending over the table, pointing angrily at Stephanie. Tim pushes the boy’s hand away and says something sharp that makes Jason grimace and Damian boil of rage.

Dick picks up the pace and reaches their table just as everything is about to go up in flames.

“We are in public,” Dick rasps and hits his hands to the table, “what the hell is happening here?”

“None of your business, Grayson!” Damian spits poisonously. Then he jumps up and pushes past Dick. The young man turns around, unsure if he should follow Damian out or not. Dick grits his teeth and turns his attention back to the table.

“Somebody want to explain?” he asks.

“You’re not our father, Dick! We are not held accountable to you!” Tim states.

“Timmy, calm down. _What happened?_ ”

Tim sighs and glances at Stephanie who puts her hand over Tim’s shoulder and nods. Jason turns away to look out of the window, his face screaming out pain and anger. But Dick doesn’t have time for everyone at the same moment.

“The whole stupid argument started when Steph asked Damian something and he didn’t answer. Steph nudged his feet to get him to answer and he told her to stop but –”

“But I didn’t. Then he kicked me and we started arguing. Tim defended me but then that little freak turned on Tim. He said some things that…”

Stephanie stops to glance at Tim, as if asking his permission to continue.

“Brought up painful memories,” Tim continues, “I snapped. I called him an outcast and said that he doesn’t belong here. That he’s not my brother, or even a part of this family, and can never be. I said he isn’t worthy to carry the Wayne name. Jason tried to get us to settle down but I got so angry when Damian brought up my biological parents that I didn’t listen.”

“Then Damian went out of his way and really squashed me,” Jason says quietly, “called me things I promised myself I’d never go back to.”  
“Jason called him a selfish bastard and said he deserves the way he has been treated by us. Then I said he should go back to his mother who probably sent him here because she couldn’t stand him anymore,” Stephanie adds. She holds her eyes directed strictly down so that she won’t have to look at Dick. The acrobat leans his forehead against his palms and sighs.

He feels exhausted. Of course he understands why Tim, Stephanie and Jason got angry – they all have gone through a lot of emotional stress, and bringing those things up was really ignorant from Damian’s side – but they shouldn’t have pushed Damian so hard. Stephanie doesn’t know Damian so well but Tim or at least Jason should’ve stopped her from crossing the line.  
“I’m going after him. Take the car and go home, guys,” Dick sighs.

“Do _not_ tell us what to do,” Jason hisses.

“Please, Jay.”

Dick looks up, his eyes praying for them to understand. Jason’s objection dies away and he looks almost regretting. Dick isn’t sure if it’s because of him or because of the things they said to Damian.

“I’m sorry,” Jason whispers.

_Don’t apologize to me, apologize to Damian_ , Dick wants to say. It would be so easy to force the guilt on them, so easy to just let things be. But he doesn’t because he knows it’s not easy for Jason to say the words out loud. So the eldest of Bruce’s wards just smiles tiredly and nods.

“Me too.”

“This is not your fault,” Tim admits, “taking our anger out on you won’t help anyone. You keep on fixing our mistakes but we just go on underestimating and bashing you because we are inept to take responsibility for our own actions.”

“That’s what big brothers are for, Timmy,” Dick says gently.

After Dick is gone, Jason places his palm over Tim’s shoulder and forces a broken smile on his face.

“That’s my baby bird. Always good with words.”

Tim smiles and he can feel something moving inside of him. It feels scary and wrong but at the same time also so natural and right.

Maybe everything this fight brought over them isn’t that bad?

– – –


	9. A breaking heart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the end you get a glimpse at what Bruce is doing on his "business trips". Few lines may or may not be considered NSFW (you be the judge of that) but, you know, just to be safe.

Damian is surprised Dick finds him so quickly. But the older boy knows the city a lot better than he does so maybe he shouldn’t be. Dick catches up with him and continues to walk by his side but doesn’t say a word.

Damian tries to push Dick away but his effort is pretty weak.

“Go away, Grayson.”

“So, we’re back to the last name basis?” Dick asks. His angelic voice sounds sad. Damian’s frown deepens.

“Drake and Todd probably told you what happened,” he finally says. Dick nods.

“Then why did you come after me?” Damian continues. “They made it pretty clear. I’m not welcome here.”

“I never said that.”

“Then you are the only one.”

“Damian, they spoke out of anger. But no matter what, you _are_ here. That alone makes you a part of the family, at least to me. Is that not enough?”

Damian stops and stares at Dick who stops too.

“Really?” Damian asks. His need for acceptance can be heard from his voice just a little too clearly. He’s been trying to hide it for so long but now he just can’t anymore. Dick only nods. Damian gets the feeling Dick has known about his insecurity all this time but just hasn’t felt the need to push the matter.

It’s a better answer than words could ever give him.

“Really,” Dick confirms at last. After a pause he goes: “You want to hug or something?”

“Shut up, Grayson,” Damian scoffs and hits his arm. Dick yelps and hits him back. They both grin.

“Hey, I want to show you something really cool,” Dick says, “follow me.”

Dick guides him to an apartment house. They climb on its roof and Dick leads the way to higher and higher rooftops until they can see over the entire city. Gotham is lighted up for the night. Neon signs, commercials screens, street lights and every other possible light source turn the city into a living piece of art.

Damian leans closer to the edge. His eyes widen and he can’t help smiling. He turns around to see Dick smiling too.

“It’s beautiful, is it not?”

“Relatively,” Damian says, hiding his astonishment.

“Relatively? Don’t you have eyes?” Dick teases, “I mean look at it, Damian.”

He steps closer and turns Damian around. The boy can feel Dick’s breath near his ear. Dick draws a line over everything they are seeing – skyscrapers, busy streets, empty neighborhoods, rushing people, heavy traffic.

“Look at that. It’s alive. It’s pulsing, like it had a heart pumping blood through its veins. If you listen close enough you can hear the beat, sink into the rhythm,” Dick explains. His voice is barely a whisper, excited and inspired. Damian doesn’t need to see his face to know he’s smiling. It can be heard from his voice.

“You sound excited,” he remarks.

“Rhythm is everything. In acrobats and in dance too,” Dick says casually, like it was obvious.

“Can we go home?” Damian asks, stepping away from the edge. He stumbles into Dick’s lap. The young man helps him back to balance.

“Of course,” Dick says softly.

They leave the roofs and head home.

When the cab pulls up in front of the Wayne Manor, and Dick pays their ride to the driver, Damian leans against the back door and measures the hostile silhouette of the Manor.

There are still lights on a few second floor windows. Suddenly Damian spots Tim standing by one of them, glaring at him. When Tim notices Damian watching him, he turns around and flings the curtains in front of the window.

It’s exactly like the first day Damian came into the Wayne household, excluding the fact that now they know each other and hate each other with true passion.

Dick touches Damian lightly on the arm and nods towards the front doors.

Damian follows Dick into the house, thinking about the day he arrived in Gotham. It feels almost like nothing has changed. Except unlike then, this time he knows what he’s about to walk into. And still he’s voluntarily following Dick into the lion’s den.

He shakes his head and stares at Dick whose dark, thick hair is all ruffled up because of the wind on Gotham roofs.

So almost nothing has changed?

At least the best things haven’t.

– – –

“Jason?”

Jason is startled by the voice and wakes up from his restless dreams. He turns to search the source of the voice and notices Tim standing by the doorway.

“Timmy? What’re you doing awake at this hour?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I still think about –”

His voice breaks. Jason motions him to come in. Tim walks in and sits next to Jason. He’s dressed in only pajama pants so the skin of his upper body is left visible, showing out his slender but strong build. When looking at his little brother Jason has to admit that the boy is actually not so little anymore and definitely not _a boy_ anymore.

“You know, about what Damian said…”

“I know,” Jason interrupts, “um, do you want to talk about it or…?”

Tim shakes his head inconsolably. Jason sighs and moves closer. He wraps his arms around Tim and lets the boy to press his head against Jason’s shoulder. And for about a millionth time Jason curses Damian for scratching open the old wounds that the death of Tim’s parents have left on the boy.

They sit in the silence long enough for Jason’s arms to turn numb. Tim draws in a sharp breath and a moment later Jason can feel a warm tear streaming down his skin. He doesn’t say anything, just tightens his grip around Tim’s shoulders.

Tim never cries. Jason can count the times Tim has cried with the fingers of only one hand. He’s the type that deals with sadness by locking themselves inside a room and breaking things, the type that never opens up or shows the vulnerable, emotional side to anyone, in fear of rejection or something like that.

But from time to time, Tim breaks too. Sometimes Jason forgets it’s even possible because he is all the time so… restrained, so controlled. Emotionless, even.

“Jason?”

Tim’s voice is only a weak whisper.

“Tell me,” Jason encourages. Tim hesitates for a long time.

“I should go to sleep. And let _you_ sleep.”

“It’s okay,” Jason mutters under his breath. Tim looks slowly up at Jason. His eyes are swollen and red from the tears but Jason’s full attention is drawn to his chapped, dry lips.

Jason can sense the tension in the air. He bets Tim can too.

And as suddenly as it began, the moment is over. Tim stands up and walks away, looking still a bit shaken but a lot more confident than just minutes ago.

Jason lies down and stares at the ceiling for hours trying to figure out what it is that he’s feeling, what it is that is making his heart beat so fast every time Tim looks at him or comes close to him.

Jason falls asleep circling around the thought.

He is tortured by a nightmare in which he’s trying to piece together a puzzle but none of the pieces fit.

– – –

When Alfred comes into the kitchen at 6am on the following morning he’s surprised to find Tim sitting on one of the countertops next to the fridge.

The boy is eating the remains of the chocolate chip ice cream that Alfred always keeps in the freezer. (Dick gets furious whenever anyone goes and eats it away. Basically the only way to get Dick mad is to eat his ice cream…)

“Master Timothy?” Alfred asks cautiously.

“Sorry, Alfred. Don’t mind me. I think my heart is broken.”

It’s just typical Tim to downplay his own problems and pretend they aren’t a big deal. Alfred walks further into the room, takes away the ice cream from Tim and places it on the kitchen table.

“While I understand that ice cream may feel like a bandage over whatever wound you think your heart is suffering of, Timothy, I assure you there are better ways.”

“It’s not a wound, Alfred. The death of my parents made a wound. It’s broken,” Tim corrects miserably, “and it doesn’t know what the hell it is doing!”

The last sentence is yelled at his own chest.

“I believe talking to one’s own organs signals that a completely another part of your body is broken rather than your heart, sir,” Alfred notes quietly as he’s starting to prepare the breakfast. It’s Tuesday morning but in the Wayne household they can be easily mixed with Mondays. Alfred can never tell them apart, except that Jason’s jokes are usually better on Tuesdays.

“Alfred, can I tell you a secret?”

“Only, if I don’t have to tell it to anyone.”

Tim’s attempt to smile is pathetic.

“I think my heart is broken because I may have a crush on Jason.”

Alfred doesn’t even raise his eyebrows. He continues to chop the vegetables (which only Dick eats…) until he knows how to answer.

“How does that make your heart broken, Timothy?”

“Because he’s my brother! It shouldn’t be doing this!” Tim cries out desperately.

“Oh, it’s not that black and white,” Alfred denies. Tim looks a bit confused but also somewhat relieved.

“Really?”

“I shit you not,” Alfred confirms, “I believe that would be against the sacred butler law.”

Tim laughs. Alfred smiles gently and tosses Tim the ice cream. The boy stares at it for a second but decides to place it back in the freezer.

Ice cream conflict avoided. The beginnings of a heartbreak evaded.

The old butler breathes out.

Not bad for a Tuesday morning.

– – –

A man in a pinstripe suit steps into the busy lounge of the Heathrow airport. He walks through the lounge not glancing even once to either his left or his right. A long, black limousine is waiting for him by the side of the street. At the exact moment he sits in, the limousine engines purr and the car curves off.

Inside the man loosens his tie and places his briefcase next to him on the bench.

“Where to, mister?” the driver asks politely.

“Chancery Court Hotel.”

After half an hour the limousine has arrived to the hotel, the man has picked his key from the reception and he has searched his room through the long corridors of the five-star hotel. He sticks the key into the lock of the room 713 and pushes it open.

He walks in and places the briefcase onto the bed. Then he notices the sound of running water coming from the bathroom. When he walks closer the sound stops and is replaced with soft footsteps walking around.

“Beloved? Is it you?” a woman’s voice calls. A long, tanned leg pushes the bathroom door open and is followed by the rest of wet Talia wrapped inside a white towel that highlights the bronze of her skin.

“I told you not to call me that, Talia,” Bruce chastises. The woman smiles confidently and walks closer.

“Then what name shall I scream when you fuck me into oblivion tonight?” she quizzes arching her eyebrows in curiosity. Bruce takes a step back and shoots her a disapproving glance.

“I’m here in business,” he says stiffly and turns his back to the seductive view of Talia’s half-naked body. Talia laughs.

“So am I, Beloved.”

Bruce takes a glimpse at her over his shoulder, raising one eyebrow in a mocking gesture. Talia closes the space between them and brings her face to only inches away from Bruce’s.

“Who says business is not pleasure?” she purrs.

Bruce doesn’t have an answer to that.

– – –


	10. Peace negotiations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't think this is NSFW but once again you get to be the judge of that... so here you have it :)

“Jay?”

“Jay!”

“Jaaaayyy!”

Jason winces and glances at Dick who is singing out his name. He waves Dick’s hands away and asks what the elder one wants.

“I said peace negotiations start tonight. This can’t go on for long. I’ve talked to Timmy and Damian and they have both agreed to avoid each other at school and not start a fight until we all talk this evening. I want everyone present, you too.”

Jason’s expression darkens.

“I want no interaction with the brat.”

“Please, Jay,” Dick begs.

“Not because of me. Those things are well behind me and he reminding me of my bad choices isn’t going to push me over the edge. He talked out of rush and I can forgive him for that. But what he said to Timmy, those weren’t mindless insults. He calculated the damage and pressed forward with perfect clearance. He knew what he was doing.”

“He was pushed into the situation.”

“By Stephanie! Not Timmy!”

“You should’ve stopped her from crossing the line,” Dick says quietly.

“I’m not exactly a peacekeeper, Dick. Not like you. I have a natural talent at sparking up fights not preventing them.”

“And that’s why I’m here. I wasn’t there then to stop the fight so I’m here now to fix it.”

Jason clams up and stares at Dick for a long moment.

“You really believe in that, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do!” Dick cries out almost desperately. Jason nods slowly.

“Fine. I’ll give you one chance. For Timmy’s sake.”

The smile that lights up Dick’s face can only be described as relieved. Jason shakes his head as he makes his way out and jumps on the back of his motorcycle. He drives through the city and parks it in front of the science centre. An ominous presentiment is knocking inside his head but he pushes it away. He walks in, changes into uniform and sinks into the same routine of an uneventful day.

Late in the afternoon (when Jason is ready to go on a kill-spree to spike up the day) one of the scientists rubs his nerves in the wrong way and Jason finally loses his last bits of self-control.

Before his security team colleagues can pull Jason off he has laid at least a dozen punches on the scientist’s face. The guy is panting and sobbing in a manner that sounds like laughing. Jason growls out loud and tries to free himself from the grip of the security guards but their hold is iron.

His boss is inducted of the situation and called on spot. He lectures Jason about his previous warnings and notifies the young man that his services are no longer needed in the centre. Jason listens to his (ex)boss face staying totally blank but then when he finally walks out of the science centre’s doors for the last time, he sighs out with relief. God, how much he hated that place.

Jason drags out his cell and types in Roy’s phone number. The Outlaws are so going viral tonight. Just when Jason is about to hit the “dial” button he remembers that he promised Dick. Under other circumstances he wouldn’t think twice about breaking the promise but there’s this thing about Dick and promises. Jason sighs and pushes the cell back in his pocket.

“Tomorrow, Harper.”

He puts on the red helmet and switches on the ignition. The engine purrs under him as he steps on the gas a few times and leaves the parking lot. Jason breathes out with resignation.

“This is going to be one stormy evening,” he says to no one in particular.

– – –

It actually goes a bit better than everyone anticipated. Well, a lot.

“I’m sorry, Drake. And Todd, this is for you too.”

“I’m sorry too, Damian.”

“Stephanie pushed me too far but I shouldn’t have lashed out on you because of it,” Damian admits. It’s obvious he’s gritting his teeth when those words escape his mouth but Tim can live with that.

“And I should have known to tell Stephanie to stop instead of starting to bash you,” Tim answers. His face is cold and completely blank. He doesn’t mask his apology in fake atonement or anything like that. Hopefully Damian can live with that.

“Todd, I’m sorry I brought up things about your past that you aren’t proud of. I’ve done things I’m not proud of too and I should have known better,” Damian continues assigning his words to Jason who is sitting on the corner of the couch and frowning at Dick.

“Apology accepted, brat,” Jason says quietly.

To Dick’s honor it must be said that he didn’t try to force or threaten them into peace. He sat them all down in the living room and gently guided them to the right direction.

“This isn’t about pretending we are a perfect family. This isn’t about saying we won’t fight anymore. This isn’t about making empty promises. What I hope is that we can work past this. That we could find ways to forgive each other our faults and learn to live with the fact that none of us is perfect,” Dick had said.

From that on things sort of rolled on by themselves.

After a half an hour the tension is gone and the atmosphere is starting to relax a bit. Then Alfred comes in to announce that dinner is ready. They use it as an excuse to end the intensely open family meeting before everything goes to hell again.

“Hey Drake, before I forget, who the pretty blonde with you today was?” Damian asks when they sit down to the dinner table. It’s his way of saying ‘we’re okay for now; let’s not fuck this up for Dick’s sake.’ Tim catches the message and nods affirmatively.

Jason whistles.

“More pretty blondes? No wonder Kon was always so jealous of you.”

“This particular blonde that I believe Damian is referring to is Kara Kent, Clark’s cousin.”

“Kara? I didn’t know you had a thing for older women,” Dick taunts. Tim rolls his eyes.

“You know her? And no, I don’t have a thing for older _women_. We were talking.”

Tim realizes he emphasized the word ‘women’ too much and hopes that no one would note. Of course they know that he’s gay but they don’t know about his may-or-may-not-be crush on Jason. The less he lets out the less it is likely that they poke their noses into his business. Damian’s eyebrows rise and fall fast, almost too fast to catch. But he’s watching Tim like a hawk, following his every movement like waiting for him to make a mistake.

Tim decides to ignore Damian’s glare until the boy gets bored and returns to his usual habit of bitching and complaining.

“Hey, isn’t Kara that chick you banged on the eighth grade, Dickie-bird?” Jason asks innocently after a long pause.

“Don’t recall,” Dick answers shaking his head. But the words come out a bit too quickly.

“You and Kara?” Tim repeats with disbelief. “You two hooked up?”

“It was just one kiss on some mischievous summer camp!” Dick defends.

“One kiss? You are a horrible tease, Dickie. The poor girl had a _huge_ crush on you and you gave her one kiss?”

“Well, you know, technically Kori and I dated then but, uh, we weren’t exactly –”

“Oh stop stammering, Grayson,” Damian scoffs, “we know what you’re trying to say.”

“And we’re not judging you,” Jason chuckles, “you’ve had a thing going on with basically every chick we know so…”

Dick rolls his eyes, not bothering to comment further. Tim smiles by himself but he’s glad they’re changing the subject. In time the spotlight might turn from Dick to someone else and Tim himself has had a pretty luckless love life which he does _not_ like talking about.

They finish the dinner listening to Jason and Damian’s playful bickering.

After dinner Dick rushes to a dance gig he has at some Gotham night club and Damian holes up in his room.

Around midnight Jason and Tim find themselves in the living room drinking scotch from Bruce’s liquor cabin and laughing over old fights. The more they drink the more their speech slurs until it’s a wonder that they can understand each other. They are hitting it with a good pace and if they keep going like this they are likely to pass out before the clock hits on the next full hour.

Tim grabs their glasses and intends to pour them another round.

Then multiple things happen so quickly that Tim doesn’t have time to think. Jason snatches the bottle and places it on the table next to their glasses. Then he grips Tim’s collar and pulls him closer until their lips clash.

Tim’s surprised voice is muffled by their kiss. His conscious mind quits thinking when he wraps his arms around Jason’s neck and answers Jason’s forceful initiation. Tim stops only to draw in a quick breath and stare deep into Jason’s pale, blue eyes. The boy sees surprise and curiosity in his older brother’s gaze and his own reflection in them looks exactly the same.

With no warning Jason flings Tim to the floor and sits astride over his chest. And they are kissing again.

The older boy pulls his shirt over his head and proceeds to unbutton Tim’s shirt while placing burning kisses on the boy’s neck. Jason lets out an aching growl as Tim’s cold fingers trail down his stomach, fiddling with his belt buckle, playing over the tightened front of his jeans.

They bump into the coffee table and knock over the scotch bottle. They freeze because the falling scotch bottle reveals another voice, this one coming from the hall: the front door opening. Dick is home.

It’s almost like all of the alcohol is dissolved from their bodies and they are dropped out into the clear.

Jason’s eyes narrow like he was angry with himself. The young man jumps to his feet and grabs his shirt from the floor before marching out of the room. He doesn’t spare Tim even a glimpse.

Tim sighs. He allows his head fall back to the floor as he closes his eyes and clenches his fingers into tight fists.

– – –


	11. A little couple counseling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be coaching on this one badminton camp this week and on the week after that I'll going on another camp myself so there'll be a few week pause in updating. But after that I'm sure it won't take me more than a couple of days to write something :)

When Jason walks into the kitchen the next morning, Tim stiffens up and glances away like he felt guilty about something. And even weirder is Jason who doesn’t offer Tim even the slightest bit of his attention. No teasing, no eye contact, no nothing.

Damian narrows his eyes while monitoring the two. He knows they started drinking after dinner but what could’ve happened that made them act like they didn’t see each other?

“Damian, pass the milk,” Jason commands lazily and sits next to him, as far away from Tim as possible.

“Drake is closer,” Damian says, testing him.

Tim doesn’t even look up from his breakfast when he pushes the milk to slide across the countertop. Jason catches it and nods but doesn’t thank.

The atmosphere is icy. Damian even considers starting a fight with Tim to get Jason to snap out of that unnatural behavior. Over the years Damian has slowly started to understand their complicated relationship. It’s like they could argue and fight all day and then make up before dinner but when someone else starts fucking with either one, they unite their forces and turn against the ‘common enemy’.

So sitting between Jason and Tim’s silent treatment feels reasonably uncomfortable.

“Okay. Seriously, what is wrong with you two?” Damian asks after five excruciating minutes.

“None of your concern, Damian,” Tim says chilly.

“Oh, I’d be glad to stay out of your business but I happen to live in this house and am currently sitting at the most awkward meal in this house ever. And that’s a lot to say, may I remind you. So, I’m going to leave for school now but I advise you two to fix this thing before Dick sees you and forces you into some sort of couple counseling thing.”

They both frown at the word ‘couple’ but Damian doesn’t care enough to analyze this notion. He leaves the room and goes on to knock on Dick’s door.

“Come in!”

Dick is standing in front of his closet, with no shirt on. His wet hair drips water on his flawless bronze skin and the relaxed yet clearly visible muscles under it. His whole body is compulsively twitching like he was yearning to get going already.

“I’m ready in a minute,” Dick says, brushes his hand through his shower-fresh hair and wipes it to his worn jeans, “oh, and Bruce will be home tomorrow, by the way.”

“Great.”

“You don’t sound that excited,” Dick remarks while trying to pick out a shirt. He seems unusually indecisive.

“He has been away most of my time here so we aren’t exactly close,” Damian answers shrugging, “if I were you, I’d go with that blue one.”

Dick picks up a sky blue collar shirt and raises his eyebrows. Damian nods.

“Well, he promised he’d be around longer this time,” Dick says. He grabs his leather jacket and throws it over his shoulders as they head out.

The car ride is mostly silent until the lights of Gotham appear in the horizon.

“What’s wrong with Todd and Drake?” Damian suddenly asks. He hates being in the dark and if Dick would know anything…? The acrobat glances at him in confusion.

“Why so?”

“They are giving each other the silent treatment. But it’s not like they’re angry with each other. More like… embarrassed.”

“I saw Jay storm into his room last night when I came in but Timmy didn’t say anything. I hope it’s nothing big.”

“I have had enough of family drama for the next century so they better pray for that,” Damian announces. Dick chuckles.

“Is that a promise?”

“I don’t like what you’re hinting at, Grayson.”

“I’m not hinting at anything!”

“Too dumb for that,” Damian quips.

“Still smarter than you, drama queen.”

“Says the drop-out!”

“ _Olympic-level acrobat_ , I prefer,” Dick corrects wiping imaginary dust off his shoulder. Damian snorts.

But in truth, Dick puts all the Olympic level acrobats to shame. His skills, elegance and grace tower over every acrobat known to man. Damian thinks it has something to do with that agreement he seems to have with gravity and of course the incredible sense of rhythm.

“Hey, ice cream after your school? I’m going to that board meeting Bruce requested I’d attend to and these guys are so stiff they make me want to shoot puppies.”

“Ice cream?” Damian mocks.

“What, too adult for ice cream? Loosen up a bit, Dami. You’re wired so tight your face sours.”

“Shut up, Grayson.”

“Dick,” the acrobat corrects.

“Fine. Ice cream after school, Dick.”

“That’s my boy. I’ll pick you up at two?”

They pull up in front of the school. Damian grabs his bag and nods before jumping out to the faceless crowd of students rushing into different directions.

– – –

Jason hasn’t told anyone yet that he got fired from the centre. He’s planning to spend all day applying for new jobs and only when he has a new, better place to work at, he’ll tell them he left. It’s not exactly lying. It’s more like saving his family from extra worrying and negative thoughts.

But he didn’t take in the fact that Tim notices everything. When he isn’t preparing for work the boy breaks the icy silence that has veiled over them all morning.

“You aren’t going to work?” Tim asks. Jason considers lying. But when he looks at Tim, the lie playing on his lips, he just can’t bring himself to say the words.

“They threw me out.”

“Why?”

“I hit that mad man I’ve told you about.”

“Oh. I’d say well done because the guy is a lunatic but I’m supposed to be, you know, strictly against violence and all,” Tim smirks. Jason can feel the ice melt a bit. He draws in a deep breath and decides to confront the elephant in the room before it breaks all the porcelain.

“About last night…”

Jason feels the need to apologize burning holes inside him. Tim was _drunk_ – not under full control or even in his right mind. And Jason almost took advantage of him and his powerless state.

“We were drunk. People do all kinds of stupid stuff when they’re drunk. I shouldn’t have taken advantage of that. It’s okay.”

Tim’s words interrupt Jason’s trail of thoughts.

Jason flinches into alert and weighs Tim from head to toes. Tim doesn’t look ‘okay’. He looks hurt and disappointed. Sad, even. Jason feels his heart skip a beat.

Definitely not okay.

“Um,” Jason mumbles.

All his plans about apologizing or playing it out to be a drunk’s stupidity fly out from the window. All he can think about is the sad expression on Tim’s face.

“Actually, uh, I thought it was nice.”

The younger boy glances up, surprised. His eyes flicker with hope and that’s when Jason knows for sure that he’s screwed.

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re attractive and smart and probably the only person in the world who can stand me. Aside from Roy, Kori and Dick, okay, but it’s different,” Jason says stepping closer, “very different.”

And he keeps on walking closer until they are a breath away from each other. Tim is stunned and speechless, totally forgotten about his school.

They stand still for a good ten seconds. Then Tim leans in and places a kiss on Jason’s lips.

It’s bold and provocative, challenging Jason to react.

_Oh._ Tim challenged the wrong guy.

In a matter of seconds Jason has nailed Tim against the wall by his wrists. Tim bites his lip and chuckles lightly.

They hear Alfred walking into the hall but neither of them cares. And as fast as he appeared, the butler backs away.

Jason throws their shirts onto the floor and pulls Tim away from the wall, guiding him up the stairs to the privacy of Jason’s room. Tim follows, submitting to Jason’s lead. The boy lets himself be flung to Jason’s bed and allows Jason to sit on his chest while pressing kisses on his lips and neck.

And when they will eventually tire of kisses and trailing touches they’ll lie next to each other on the warm sheets and bask in the sunshine that drowns the bed and the two boys inside its rays.

Jason will play with Tim’s ruffled hair while the boy will fall asleep resting his head on Jason’s shoulder. And all the time in the world will be theirs.

Jason smiles while looking into Tim’s vivid, blue eyes and places a kiss on his forehead.

– – –


	12. Ice cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh my computer has been disagreeing with me for some time now but I think we're finally getting to an agreement... sooo here we have the next chapter!

Damian is standing by the street, waiting for Dick to show up. He’s two minutes late, like usually.

Then his car veers around the corner with a few too many miles per hour on the speedometer. Damian shakes his head when Dick pushes the passenger door open and lowers his sunglasses.

“Jump in, kitten,” he says and grins widely.

Damian scowls.

“Kitten?” the boy asks venomously when he sits down and fastens the seatbelt. The only answer he gets is a smirk. The car jumps forward and they’re driving towards Dick’s favorite park that, incidentally, has an ice cream bar.

“You looked like a grumpy kitten when you stood there,” Dick explains and ruffles Damian’s hair quickly before the boy can slap his hand away.

“Just shut up, Dick. And you’re late.”

“Two minutes, kitten.”

Damian’s eyes narrow but Dick’s smile just widens. It’s hard to be angry to a smile that could outshine the sun. Damian sighs.

“Just never use it so that Todd or Drake can hear.”

“Never would!”

Dick’s declaration is innocent enough for Damian to know that was exactly his intention. He shakes his head again. Sometimes he wonders why he likes Dick the most of his brothers. Too late Damian notices that he thought of the word ‘brothers’ without quotation marks. Doing that even in his head it makes him sort of angry. He doesn’t know why but it just does.

“We’re here!” Dick announces and pulls the breaks so that Damian’s head swings forward.

“You’re probably like the worst driver ever,” Damian mutters. They get off the car and wander sluggishly over the bright green grass and blossoming dandelions.

“You’ll take that back when you see Roy driving,” Dick promises. Damian just snorts.

Two kids run between them, laughing and shooting each other with water pistols. Damian’s frown deepens as he’s watches the kids and their hustling. Dick pokes Damian’s shoulder.

“Seriously, Dami. Relax. Enjoy.”

Dick stretches his arms, his muscles gently tensing under the sky blue shirt. Damian can’t but stare. The young man’s movements, not to mention his whole presence, are so natural and smooth. So relaxed, to be exact.

They stop in front of the ice cream bar operating out of a trailer truck. They stare at the flavor list for a long time until Dick asks what Damian wants.

“Mint.”

“Great,” Dick comments and turns to the cashier, “one mint and one chocolate.”

The cashier nods. She hands the cones to Dick in a minute and announces the price. Dick pays it and hands the mint one to Damian. But just when the boy reaches out his arm to take the ice cream, Dick pulls his hand back and takes a bite out of it. Damian frowns and quickly grabs the cone. They walk a few feet away from the ice cream truck and sit down to an empty bench by the narrow path splitting the park in two. The acrobat tosses his shoes away and crosses his legs under himself on the bench. Damian thinks the position must be uncomfortable but Dick makes it look quite the opposite.

“Mm. How I have missed this,” Dick mumbles and licks his lips. Damian smiles distantly. The tension in him is disappearing with every bite he takes of his ice cream.

“How was school?” Dick asks.

“Boring. The teachers’ incompetence is exceeded only by the stupidity of other students.”

“Hate to hear.”

“I’d like to not talk about school. How did the board meeting go?” Damian inquires. Dick shrugs but his expression is weary.

“I hate board meetings.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you hated _anything._ ”

“I do. I just don’t make a number about my distastes.”

Damian’s eyebrows rise and fall so quickly that Dick almost doesn’t catch it. The young man flushes lightly when he realizes his words could be taken the wrong way.

“I didn’t mean to judge.”

“I know,” Damian says and finishes his ice cream. Dick is still eating, so slowly that it makes Damian shake his head in puzzlement.

“How are you that slow?”

“It’s called enjoying, Dami. I bet you’d like it.”

Damian shifts on the bench, tosses his shoes away too and leans comfortably backwards. Then he glances at Dick like he was asking “like this?”

“That’s it,” Dick confirms grinning.

“This is stupid.”

“Why?”

“Stupid,” Damian repeats. Dick shrugs.

“If you say so.”

Dick finally finishes his ice cream but they stay for a while longer. Damian’s eyes follow the two kids running around with the water pistols.

“Were you three like that when you were younger?” Damian asks and gestures vaguely towards the kids. He surprises even himself when he notes there’s… longing in his voice. Dick is watching them too and when he smiles it looks like he sees something quite else than Damian.

“We fought a lot, even as kids. But we had good times too. More good than bad, I think,” Dick thinks back, “we spent a lot of time playing in the woods behind the Manor. Me against them two, that’s how it usually was.”

“I don’t see how that’s fair.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Then why didn’t you change the set?” Damian asks. Dick smiles distantly and absentmindedly picks off a leaf that fell to Damian’s shoulder.  
“Well,” he continues and shifts comfortably on the bench, “I was a high-level acrobat even back then. Any other ‘set’ would’ve made it even more unfair. My skills gave me an advantage so it was the most logical solution.”

Damian shrugs, ignoring the clear complacence in Dick’s voice.

“Hey, you want to go a round? I still remember how I taught Jay to handstand in here. The grass softens tumbles a lot,” the young man suggests. Damian freezes.

“But there are people here.”

“So?” Dick asks vividly and nimbly jumps over the back of the bench. He lands on one foot and spins around to gesture Damian to follow. “I used to practice a lot of tricks here. I’m a usual sight in this place.”

Damian is watching the young man with a frown on his face, his eyes begging the man to stop attracting so much attention.

“Come on, kitten!”

“Don’t call me kitten, Grayson!” Damian hisses poisonously. Dick tilts his head.

“Oh come on, Dami! Aren’t you a bore.”

Damian sighs and gets up. He likes sparring with Dick, it’s not that. It’s just… he can handle people staring at him when he’s performing in some way but he hates being watched when he’s doing something else, something not meant for others.

Dick takes off his leather jacket and rolls both his sleeves and his trouser legs. Damian rolls his sleeves too and takes a standby position. Dick nods, taking a position too.

They fight three sportive rounds before agreeing to another ice creams and heading back home. Dick takes the car to WayneTech’s parking lot so that they can walk home. The weather of the late spring day is excellent – warm and sunny but not too hot because of the cool breeze whistling between the buildings.

Damian stares at the sky where a flock of birds wafts into the air from the nearest rooftop while Dick keeps on talking and joking until Damian feels more at home than ever.

– – –

Tim helps Jason to write his job applications.

Well, more like comments on everything he writes.

They are camped in the furthest library of Wayne Manor so even if Dick and Damian come home, they won’t be bothered. Jason is sitting on a couch with Tim’s laptop on the armrest and Tim’s head on his thighs.

It requires all of his self-control to stop himself from throwing the laptop away. And it doesn’t help that Tim looks so temptingly desirable while lying shirtless in his lap. The boy yawns and smiles remotely to Jason.

“You look tired,” Jason states. Tim smirks.

“Can I sleep here?”

“At least you wouldn’t criticize everything I write.”

“Fuck you,” Tim mumbles and shifts into a more comfortable position, “you spelled ‘punctuality’ wrong, by the way.”

Jason huffs and throws his hands into the air in frustration. Tim smirks again and takes a firm grip on Jason’s collar. He pulls the young man down to a quick kiss. Jason hums in satisfaction. Then the young man lays the laptop on the floor and yanks Tim up into a sitting position. Their bodies tangle on the cushions, skin brushing against skin, Jason’s nails digging into Tim’s back, Tim’s fingers trailing down Jason’s spine.

Jason pins Tim under himself and grins shamelessly at the boy. Tim lets out a weak moan when the young man nibbles on his neck and gives the boy a husky, low-pitched laugh.

Then Jason’s phone rings.

“Ah, man.”

Jason locks Tim’s hands over the boy’s head with one hand and drags out his cell.

“What the fuck do you want?” he hisses to the caller.

“ _Whoa, what crawled up your ass and died?_ ”

“I’m in the middle of something so spill, Harper.”

Someone laughs in the other end of the line. Jason grits his teeth and tightens his grip of Tim’s wrists. The boy grunts and shoots Jason a glare which the elder ignores.

“ _We’re going out tonight, asshole._ ”

“I know. Why are you calling me?”

“ _We’re going to see Nightwing! I know where he’s performing._ ”

“You’re kidding, right? No one knows where he performs. Except for the owner of the club he’ll be in.”

“ _You know Carl Jakes? He owes me a favor. This makes me and him even._ ”

Jason glances at Tim who is really starting to look upset. The scowling boy is unable to move and his wrists are probably turning numb in Jason’s grip. Tim’s helplessness is totally turning Jason on and suddenly a shudder of lust runs through him. A thought flashes in his mind.

“I’ll bring Timmy. I remember he mentioned wanting to see Nightwing too.”

“ _Sure, whatever. At least you’ll have company after Kori drinks me senseless and fucks me numb in some back alley._ ”

“Dude, I don’t want details.”

“ _See you at eight, fucker._ ”

Jason hangs up and grins at Tim. The boy looks ready to lose his patience any moment now.

“We’re going on a date.”

“Can you please let me go now?” Tim asks in irritation. Jason measures the boy up. He grins so wide it reveals his white teeth and he shakes his head.

“I think I like you like that,” he thinks out loud and kisses the boy.

Tim’s frown melts away when their lips meet.

– – –


	13. The first date

Wayne Manor. Later.

Roy Harper pulls the brakes in front of the Manor’s front door. Kori is riding shotgun and looking relatively bored. Her burning red hair floats down her tanned back and her bright green eyes measure the Manor blatantly unimpressed.

“Hey, Kori please, don’t look so thrilled,” Roy mocks and nudges her arm. She just rolls her eyes.

“They are coming,” she remarks.

The front door is pushed open and Jason steps out with Tim on his heels. The younger boy has gotten a lot taller and stronger since the last time Roy saw him (excluding that one time Tim came to get Jason home after some Wayne family drama) but he still looks so slender and… dainty when he’s walking by Jason’s side. Like he might fly off at any moment.

The two sit in the backseat of Roy’s old and rusty convertible Cadillac – which would probably look amazing if it wasn’t so goddamn beaten up – and they gas off the yard so abruptly that all three passengers hit their heads in their seats.

“You’re late, Harper,” Jason chastises straight into Roy’s ear.

“A-ah!” Roy yelps in overacted panic and the car makes a sudden sideways slip. Then he cracks up to manic laughter.

The following moment of silence is broken by the lil’Wayne aka Tim Drake.

“Is he crazy?” Tim whispers to Jason who just nods.

“Yes, he is.”

Roy scowls and steals a glimpse at the backseat from the rearview mirror.

“Jaybird, I’m hurt.”

“Haven’t we discussed that before, Harper?” Jason inquires far too innocently. Jason never sounds innocent. Least when he actually means to. Roy scowls, bites his lips and pretends to weigh it up in his mind.

“Discussed what?” he finally asks with just as much innocence.

“ _The nickname_ ,” Jason reminds icily

“Oh, that. Sorry, Jaybird.”

Roy catches Tim’s half-of-a-smile in the rearview mirror when the boy leans closer to Jason to whisper something in his ear. Jason smacks his head away and huffs. He looks almost… embarrassed. Roy grins with sudden curiosity. He’s about to make a further comment but Kori steals his attention by hitting his shoulder.

“What is it, my princess?”

“You missed our turn.”

“Oh fuck.”

“You’re the worst driver ever,” Jason declares.

“And I’m not even drunk yet,” Roy sighs glancing back at Jason and Tim.

Tim’s horrified expression is absolutely priceless.

– – –

Black spandex tautened over his skin. Blue stripes spread across his chest and arms. Dark, sweaty tresses of hair hang over his winged mask barely touching it. From the depths of the mask deep and vivid blue eyes roam over the reflection of Nightwing – the reflection of himself – still out of breath and dazed from his first performance.

“Perfect.”

Dick smiles at the mirror. The lips of his reflection twitch into a light, mysterious smile too. That isn’t me in there, Dick reminds himself. Not Richard Grayson, at least. It’s _Nightwing._

Dick draws in a final breath before he turns around and steps out of the dressing room. He doesn’t actually need the young assistant to lead him anymore but settles to follow the girl anyway. The intensity of the club hits him all at once – the heat, the noise, the smoky air. He ignores it and goes for the chain left in the stage corner. He locks it into his wrist and lies down to the floor in the still dark stage. Slowly people realize he’s back, with something new to present them. Dick draws in shallow breaths, trying to hold the rhythm.

Blue lights spike through the smoke floating over the stage floor.

Music dribbles into the air, silencing the club like magic.

Dick’s racing thoughts die away when every muscle in his body tenses. His back arches, his head twitches back, his fingers clench into fists and he closes his eyes in sweet pain. With every beat his body tenses and eases, like in an endless circle of push and shove.

Then suddenly his eyes flutter open, displaying agony and torture in the pleading gaze that brushes over the crowd. His eyes take the audience captive, refusing to let them go until they free him of his misery. Just a heartbeat and he’s on the move again. Dick rolls up to his feet, quickly entwines the chain around his arms and tugs on it forcefully.

After that he allows himself to slip into the flow of the music but he takes the audience with him. His torment is visible in his every move; his grace hidden under the raw emotion loaded into this performance. They can’t move and they can’t speak. Hell, most of them are barely able to breathe.

The music comes to a sharp halt, alerting and stunning his mesmerized audience. But Dick’s charm over the room won’t break. They aren’t given mercy before his feet still and his body sinks back onto the floor.

His eyes brush their focus over the mute, frozen people once more, offering them one last look of his yearning for freedom.

Dick’s body twitches sharply and violently. His eyes fall shut and a weak sigh escapes his lips.

The lights fade away. The audience bursts into applauds. Dick opens his eyes, gasping for breath.

He jumps up to his feet and bows so deep his hair sweeps the floor. It makes the front row laugh a little. The dancer winks at a beautiful blonde woman among the laughing people and blows her a kiss. This raises a few more chuckles in the crowd.

Dick slips off the stage to the back. The assistant is already waiting for him. She hands him the sweats he left by the stage door.

“Mr. Nightwing, there’s group of people who wish to buy you a few drinks and meet you,” she informs him, half smiling while Dick is pulling over the sweats.

“I’ll drink. And talk. I love talking,” Dick answers grinning. A little laugh escapes her lips and she gestures towards the personnel door.

“They’re waiting for you.”

“They always are,” Dick sighs rolling his eyes playfully. He turns to push open the door and slides back into the club. It’s not rare that people ask to meet him. Most people are only interested in the show he can put up but some want to know what and who is behind the mask. He slides into the club. The bartender nods at him and side-eyes a group of four making noise by the bar.

Dick curses silently when he recognizes them. Jason, Tim, Roy, Kori.

“Nightwing!” Jason exclaims when he notices Dick. No turning back then.

“Do you have to be so loud, Jaybird? We don’t want to share,” Roy chastises and grins at Dick who grins back.

“Should I be worried?” Kori asks nudging Roy’s arm.

“Never, my princess,” Roy promises. Dick walks closer and leans against the bar.

“And what will Nightwing drink?” Jason asks flamboyantly. Apparently they’re all a little tipsy and therefore sloppy already – otherwise they would’ve recognized him right away.

“Beer is fine,” Dick says to the bartender, “wish to tell me who I am talking with?”

Jason grins and wraps his arm around Tim’s neck. The gesture is casual but there’s something different in it, in the way Jason’s fingers play with Tim’s collar and in the way Tim leans closer in.

“You don’t recognize us?” he asks in a smug manner. Dick’s lips curve into a smile just as complacent when he shakes his head.

“Shame,” Roy mocks. Jason hits his shoulder. Kori giggles. Tim narrows his eyes at Dick.

It’s not a hostile expression, but for a moment Dick is certain Tim recognizes him. When the bartender comes to hand Dick his beer, the boy scowls and shakes his head like he had dismissed his own suspects.

“Is everything okay, pretty bird?” Jason whispers into Tim’s ear. The younger boy’s cheeks flush with red.

“I thought I knew him.”

Dick tilts his head, pretending he didn’t hear them.

“Are you two together?” he asks casually and waves his finger between the two brothers. Jason and Tim glance at each other. They look embarrassed for a moment but then Jason presses a kiss on Tim’s cheek and grins at Nightwing.

“Yeah.”

Dick smiles, not sure what to feel. His first emotion is “not exactly surprised”. The second one is shocked. And finally there comes a third: he’s happy for them. Of course he is – it’s not that. It’s just that even though they aren’t blood-related brothers it’s a little weird to think about. He isn’t sure what emotion to listen to. Roy whistles quietly.

“Man, you didn’t tell me.”

“I told you now,” Jason answers challengingly.

“But he’s –”

Roy’s voice dies away when he tries to search for the right words. Jason raises his eyebrows. Roy flails with his hands and lets out a desperate noise.

“So what, Roy?” Kori huffs, twiddling her drink with a calm expression on her beautiful face. Her reaction is so typically Kori – calm, reasoned and unimpressed. Roy shrugs.

“Nothing, I guess.”

“I believe there’s a story behind you two,” Dick says and gestures for the bartender. For now he has decided to go with “happy for them”. Jason, Tim, Roy and Kori exchange glances. They turn back to Dick with puzzled faces. The bartender brings five glasses and a bottle of whiskey which Dick takes holding a mysterious smile on his face.

“And?” Jason asks. Dick opens the bottle and pours everyone a round.

“And I want to hear it,” he answers grinning. Tim grabs his glass and winks at Nightwing with unusual joviality.

“I hope you have time because this is a long story,” he threatens merrily. Jason laughs, his fingers playing in Tim’s hair with natural ease.

Dick reaches out a leg to pull closer a bar stool and sits down on it. Then he leans against the bar and takes a sip of his whiskey.

“We have all night,” he promises.

– – –

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaay I decided to go with Tim and Jason not recognizing Dick in his costume (for future plans) and I just hope it was believable.


	14. Nightwing

“Grayson?” Damian calls and knocks on Dick’s door. “I require your assistance with my English essay.”

No answer. Damian scowls and knocks again. He presses his ear to the door, searching for any noises that might point out that there is someone in the room. Nothing.

“Grayson if you’re avoiding me then open the door and tell me so.”

Once again his voice meets only silence. Frustration rises like a tide inside Damian. In annoyance the boy knocks on the door once more before giving up. Maybe Grayson is in the gym? Damian scampers down the stairs and peeks into the dark gym. The boy looks around in the darkness but he has to shake his head in disappointment. No. Grayson was not there.

Damian starts to make a list of possible places where Dick could be and checks them one by one. Kitchen, salons, libraries, garage, yard. Damian goes through the whole Manor but there’s no trace of Dick. He even follows Alfred around for almost an hour because the old butler seems to always magically know where everyone is. But Alfred doesn’t lead him to Dick. And Titus won’t bother to even lift its head when Damian attempts to trick the dog into sniffing out Grayson’s hideout.

It takes him nearly two hours to realize that maybe Dick isn’t in the house at all. Damian returns to his door and picks the lock.

His bed is not made and there’re dirty clothes lying around on the floor. His laptop is left open on the desk. His screensaver is a picture of them, of the whole family. It’s from that stupid trip they made to Greece two years back. Bruce looks serious, like he always does. Dick has his arms crossed on top of Damian’s head and he’s leaning to the boy with a wide grin on his face. Damian himself has his arms crossed tightly over his chest and he’s staring up to Dick with a murderous glare. Tim is standing next to them with his eyebrows raised in amusement and he’s trying hard not to crack when Jason is making faces at him.

Damian scoffs at the picture and looks away. That’s when he notices the window. It’s open. Just a little but it’s still open. Damian scoffs again.

“Breaking the rules again, aren’t you, Grayson?” Damian asks out loud. “Fine. I’ll wait you up.”

He throws himself to lie down on Dick’s bed and stares at the ceiling. Time passes him by slowly but he is determined. And well practiced in finding things to do while waiting. The essay he originally wanted to talk to Dick about is forming in his mind so that after this he’ll only have to write it on paper. He also makes plans for the next summer, falls asleep for a little while and wonders what he’ll say to Grayson when he returns.

Three hours past midnight Damian hears something. He scrambles up and hides behind the bathroom door. He listens closely when something heavy tumbles in from the window and rackets clumsily around in the room.

Damian steps out from hiding. “So this is what you do during the nights?”

Dick is caught off guard. He lets out a startled noise and spins around to stare at Damian. His eyes splay out and he’s standing very shakily.

“Whaaa –”

Oh, great. He’s drunk.

It’s a miracle he has managed himself in from the window (the right window…) not to mention he has already tossed off his shirt and shoes. His back bag is lying on the floor, and there’s a black and blue sleeve peering from it.

“How did you manage to get yourself up here in that condition?” Damian asks and leans against the doorframe. Dick seems to have recovered from his shock because he grins widely.

“Practice,” he slurs. “Dami, how are you up this late?”

He takes a step towards Damian but stumbles to his own feet. Damian catches him before he slumps to the floor. Dick snickers like a ten-year-old girl and brushes his hand through Damian’s hair. The boy has his hands full with holding the man up so he isn’t able to smack the acrobat’s hands away.

“I was waiting for you,” Damian answers and drags the man to the bed. Dick’s fingers trail downer and he pokes Damian’s nose. The boy holds back the urge to hit the older man.

“You’re so sweet, Dami.”

“Shut up, Grayson, and go to sleep,” Damian commands, pushing Dick’s hands away.

Dick grins again but sleepily this time. Something slices through Damian’s annoyance and he can’t stop his expression from softening. 

“As the little prince commands,” Dick slurs and his eyes fall closed. Immediately after that he goes completely languid and he slumps powerlessly against Damian. The boy shoves him better to the bed, places a pillow under his head and tosses a blanket over him.

When he happens to glance into the mirror on Dick’s closet door he notices the unintended gentle smile on his face. Damian frowns to his reflection and turns quickly away.

Then he sneaks out of the room, deciding to start grilling Dick after the acrobat has sobered up a little. In the corridor he almost stumbles into Alfred. The old butler nods and knowingly smiles at Damian but won’t say a word. The boy fixes his posture challengingly, hoping that he’s not blushing or anything else like that.

“Good night, Pennyworth,” Damian says stiffly. He turns on his heels, not bothering to stay and wait for an answer.

“Good night, master Damian,” Alfred replies softly after him. The old butler closes Dick’s door still lightly smiling.

After him the only noise in the corridor is the distant snoring of Dick Grayson.

– – –

“Good morning, Grayson.”

“Argh!” Dick exclaims and jumps into a sitting position. His eyes rake the room searching for the voice. Finally they lock on Damian who is standing by his side and had whispered the words into his ear.

“Damian? What the hell?”

“You came home drunk,” the boy replies leaning back. “And I found this.”

He tosses Dick’s Nightwing suit over to his lap. Dick closes his eyes and sighs with exhaustion. He seems to remember now that Damian was waiting for him when he came back.

“I thought you were performing under your own name.”

“I am!” Dick defends.

“Your name is Richard Grayson,” Damian says. Somehow he manages to make the words sound like a reminder. Like Dick could forget what his name is.

“As long as the music plays it is Nightwing.”

“Why not tell us? Why pretend to be someone else and not take the credit yourself?”

“I didn’t want my name as Bruce Wayne’s ward affecting Nightwing’s success,” Dick replies miserably, “I want to be my own man.” Then he flings the blanket away, lays his feet to the floor and stretches flexibly. Damian looks away uncomfortably. Dick’s body could belong to a god and that puts all kinds of inappropriate thoughts into Damian’s head. He hates himself for it but there’s nothing he can do about it.

“But why not tell _us?_ ” Damian repeats in frustration. His words lose quite a bit of authority because they’re directed to his feet. Dick blinks in surprise.

“I didn’t think you cared.”

It’s Damian’s turn to be left speechless. Dick smiles sheepishly at the boy and pushes himself up to his feet. Damian doesn’t step back. That leaves him well into Dick’s personal space, so close he can smell the faint remainders of Dick’s unique scent mixed with cologne and sweat. He smells good. Well, amazing, actually.

“Were you ever going to tell me?” Damian asks stepping even closer. He realizes too late he used the word ‘me’ instead of ‘us’. Dick smiles genuinely delighted and nudges playfully Damian’s arm.

“Maybe.”

“That is not an answer.”

“Just please don’t tell anyone else,” Dick pleads before stepping past Damian and heading to his bathroom.

“Why?”

Dick stops. He doesn’t turn or answer. Damian repeats the question.

“Nightwing keeps a secret for someone. I don’t.”

Damian fights back the urge to hit Dick’s head into a wall. Multiple times, preferably. Why does he have to be so uncharacteristically distant and vague?

“What secret?”

“Oh, Dami. That’s the thing about secrets,” Dick says finally glancing over his shoulder. There’s a mysterious smile on his face when he turns back, grabs his towel from where it’s hanging and walks into the bathroom. The door closes behind him, leaving Damian standing alone by Dick’s bed.

“Dammit, Grayson,” Damian mutters by himself. He marches out of the room.

In the bathroom Dick slumps against the door and sighs.

Nightwing has been his own little secret, a thing completely his own. Something _idealistic_ , something no one could take away from him. He hasn’t told anyone, not a soul, but Damian is quick. Dick smiles to his reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“It’s okay,” he saya to himself, “Damian can keep my secret.”

– – –


	15. Surprises walk through the front door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the beginning contains a little more than innocent cuddling between Jay and Tim so you have been warned.

The room is dark. A lone streak of moonlight shines in and reveals two persons curled inside the covers of a single bed. A curl of white on the older one’s temple blazes bright against the dark hair surrounding it. Under the covers his fingers are sliding on the smooth skin of the younger one, until a sharp slap nails his fingers to the spot.

“Ugh!”

“Please keep your hands to yourself. That’s an order, Jay.”

“Killjoy,” Jason mutters and reluctantly removes his hands.

“Drunk,” Tim shoots back. Jason laughs but his voice is a little too loud.

“Only tonight,” Jason quips confidently. It’s a terrible joke. Tim laughs. Jason laughs too. The elder is about to say something else but Tim turns around and presses a finger on his lips. Jason grins.

Tim smiles too when he pulls away the finger, only to replace it with a whiskey-scented kiss. The older man hums in satisfaction and steals another kiss. Tim chuckles lightly but he has to gasp for air when Jason pushes his right shoulder roughly into the mattress and rolls himself on top of Tim. After that a few more kisses are dealt out.

“Can I use a hand now?” Jason taunts between two kisses, allowing his fingers trail slowly lower and lower on Tim’s skin.

Tim’s answer gets mumbled by Jason’s lips. But his body is leaning into the cool touch of Jason’s fingers and that serves as an answer good enough for Jason.

They have agreed to take this thing slowly but that agreement seems petty and unnecessary on moments like this – to Tim at least. They know each other well and this kind of relationship is not a new thing for either of them. Tim’s hands slide lower on Jason’s back and stop over his ass.

He tugs impatiently at the edge of Jason’s briefs.

“Such a rush, little bird,” the elder laughs quietly.

“Why wait?” Tim purrs and bites on Jason’s lower lip.

“Not for long, just not tonight.”

Tim frowns and tugs again. Jason grabs his arms and presses them into the mattress on both sides of his head.

“Come on, Jay,” Tim begs. “I want you.”

The last words are breathed out weakly because Jason nips on his neck.

“You’re drunk, Timmy,” Jason replies and sucks a light mark on the spot he had gently bitten.

“So are you.”

“Not tonight,” Jason repeats.

Tim laughs and presses a kiss on Jason’s lips.

“Fine. Not tonight.”

That’s the end of the conversation. Jason rolls down, wraps his arms around Tim and they try to sleep once more.

Half an hour later the clock on Tim’s night stand hits 5:00am. The weak chime it lets out meets only slow and steady breathing of two persons. Jason’s forehead is pressed against the back of Tim’s neck, their fingers are entangled together, legs entwined. Skin brushes against skin every time either one moves even a slight.

A silent snore breaks the tranquility. Tim jerks in surprise but doesn’t wake up. He nestles better into Jason’s embrace and falls deeper into his dreams. Jason’s snoring fades into a steadily rising and falling noise in the background.

When they wake up on the next morning neither of them has time to dwell on last night.

Bruce is back.

When the realization hits Tim properly he rolls off the bed in panic. He grabs his jeans and pulls them on while looking for his button up and the jacket.

Jason lifts his head off the pillow and looks confusedly at Tim.

“Where’re you off to, pretty bird?”

“Bruce is home,” Tim explains and quickly buttons his shirt. He screws up in the middle and has to begin over again. Jason gets up and takes Tim’s hands.

“Allow me,” Jason says smirking. He places a light kiss Tim’s lips.

Tim’s nervousness fades away as Jason buttons up his shirt with crude hands and lifts the collar up so that the hickey on his neck isn’t visible.

“Put the jacket on. Then that won’t look so stupid,” Jason advises, gesturing at the uplifted collar.

“Thanks, Jaybird,” Tim teases and quickly kisses him. Jason grabs him on the waist and draws him into a full kiss.

When they finally part they’re both out of breath. Jason smirks again.

“Dressing you is almost as fun as undressing you,” he says.

“Oh shut up!” Tim commands and slowly turns to the door.

Jason slaps him hard on his ass. Tim spins back around giving him a murderous look. Jason’s grin is so obscene Tim feels naked.

“See you at breakfast, babe,” Jason sings after him.

Tim shuts the door behind him. When he’s alone in the hallway he lets out the grin he was trying to hide.

– – –

“Okay, how did you do it?”

Dick looks up from the towel he was wrapping around himself and notices Damian sitting on the edge of his bed. The boy has his arms crossed over his chest and he’s staring intently at Dick’s face.

“Um, do what?”

The elder man heads to the closet and hides behind the door so he won’t have to look at that accusing expression on Damian’s face.

“The Nightwing-thing, obviously. Didn’t at least Tim suspect anything?”

“Well, you may, uh, remember how I told you guys Nightwing taught me some moves. That prevented a lot of suspect. But mostly it was just because I didn’t say anything that would draw attention.”

“Smart.”

“Dami, the only reason I initially decided to keep this thing from you was because… I guess I just needed something that was completely _mine._ ”

Dick stepped out wearing sweats and a white T-shirt. He closed the closet and sat next to Damian on the bed.

“I think I understand,” the boy says determinately.

“Good. But _now_ it’s kind of like our little secret.”

They hear a loud bang from the front door. The two look at each other both realizing what the sound meant. Bruce was home.

Dick gets up and almost flies to the front hall. Damian follows him with less enthusiasm.

When Damian reaches the staircase leading to the hall he finds himself stopping and frowning at the sight he meets.

Dick frozen on his feet halfway down the stairs. Alfred carrying in more bags than Bruce had. Bruce offering his hand to someone Damian couldn’t see.

Talia al Ghul walking into the Wayne Manor with a light, mysterious smile fixed on her face.

“Good morning, Richard,” she greets in her melodious yet sharp voice. “To you too, my son.”

“Mother?” Damian asks in shock.

– – –


	16. Family assemble of a sort

“Why are you here, Mother?” Damian demands in bewilderment.

“Mind your tone, darling,” Talia chastises, her perfect eyebrows furrowing in irritation, “I’m just passing by the city and wished to visit you.”

“What, you toss me here and then expect me to welcome you right back when it best suits you?” Damian asks in anger. Normally he would never talk to Talia like that. But right now he can only feel the anger of abandonment he’d felt four years ago.

He storms back upstairs before Talia can even react. Her eyes narrow and she opens her mouth to call Damian but Bruce shakes his head.

“He doesn’t listen well when he’s angry.”

“He needs boundaries,” Talia argues. She turns back to the stairs and her cold eyes lock with Dick’s who is still standing in the stairs.

“I think you should give him some space. Both of you,” Dick says with a dead voice and turns on his heels to follow Damian.

Dick almost walks past Damian who hid behind the corner to listen in. The boy looks up at Dick and for the first time during his life in Gotham his face is truly a mess of emotions.

“All this time there hasn’t been a single call, email or text. Not a sign. And now she just appears here,” Damian whispers. Dick bites his lip and it looks like he’s torn by an internal conflict.

“Do you want to be alone?” Dick asks finally. Damian looks at his older brother like he would only now realize that Dick was standing there. He sighs and attempts to get a grip of himself.

“Nah, I just overreacted.”

“Dami, as good liar as you think you are… you aren’t that good.”

“Shut up, Grayson,” Damian commands but his tone doesn’t hold the usual sharpness. He sounds almost friendly, like the words had come out as a reflex. It’s what Damian says when he doesn’t know what else to say.

“Oh, Dami. Don’t you ever learn?” Dick taunts and ruffles Damian’s hair. The younger boy slaps his hand away, thankful for something to hit.

“I’m going to the gym,” Damian says. He begins to walk away sunken into his thoughts.

When Damian reaches the nearest corner he turns around and frowns at Dick.

“Aren’t you coming, Grayson?” he asks almost like he was irritated. Dick has to hide his amused grin into a cough.

“Sure, little brother,” Dick replies and catches up with the boy.  
After a minute Damian hits him in the shoulder.

“Ow! What was that for?” Dick exclaims glancing at Damian who glances back and smirks.

“You’re an idiot.”

“Hah! You are!” Dick retorts and smacks Damian back. They start nudging each other, continuing all the way to the gym.

They both laugh and for a moment everything is back to normal.

– – –

“Bruce?” Tim calls and walks around the last corner. Jason follows him, still in his pajama pants.

“Hello, Timothy.”

Jason freezes like he had been hit and he peeks cautiously around the corner. Tim blocks most of his vision but what he sees does not please him at all.

Talia al Ghul. Jason remembers her vaguely from the time before Damian and before Tim, when he himself had been only ten or so. She and Bruce had dated for a short time. At first Jason had simply loved and adored her but later on her novelty had worn off and he had started to resent and dislike her.

“Morning, Talia. What brings you to Gotham?” Tim asks politely. Jason scowls. As for his knowledge the two had never even met.

“Business, naturally. But I’m here to see Damian.”

“Ah, I see. Damian’s probably in the gym.”

“Yes, with Richard I’d assume,” Talia replies smiling gently when she said Dick’s name. Talia had always liked Dick. _Everyone_ liked Dick. “They… passed by us already.”

“Oh?” Tim inquires glancing at Bruce. Even Jason senses the tension behind those last words.

“It’s nothing,” Bruce belittles, “it’s good to see you, boys.”

“You too,” Tim replies and steps forward to quickly hug Bruce, “but I got to run. I have to pick up my suit from the tailor.”

Tim walks out and leaves Jason alone with Talia and Bruce.

“You can come out, Jason,” Bruce says frowning.

“I’m wearing only my pajama pants.”

Talia opens her mouth to say something but Jason lifts his hand to stop her.

“No, please, no need to remind me of those times when I used run around wearing _only_ Bruce’s t-shirt,” the young man begs, his cheeks burning of embarrassment.

Talia laughs. “If you wish so.”

“I’m gonna go…” Jason says and gestures vaguely behind himself.

Bruce nods.

“Oh, and Talia?” Jason continues over his shoulder.

“Yes, Jason?”

“Please try to understand Damian.”

Talia smiles in amusement but nods anyway. Jason didn’t know how Damian had reacted to seeing Talia – after she had abandoned him to Gotham with a family he didn’t know or particularly even like – but judging by her expression… not good.

The thing is, as much as he dislikes the brat, the boy was family. And Dick had gotten attached to him. Jason sighs. Though Tim is Jason’s favorite, he has to begrudgingly admit that he looks up to Dick. If protecting Dick meant getting along with Damian… that’s what Jason would do. That’s what _families_ would do.

Jason turns away and slouches back to his bedroom. He tumbles tiredly to the bed and falls immediately asleep.

When he wakes up again, hours later, someone has covered him with a blanket and placed a pillow under his head. On his nightstand there is a note. Jason stretches out his hand and reads it.

_I found the spa reservation you made for tonight. I understand now. –Tim_

Jason smiles by himself and tosses off the note.

He gets up, dresses and slides into the hallway. The angry voices echoing around the hallways startle the hell out of him.

Bruce. Damian. Talia. One by one Jason picks out their voices from the general mess of echoes. All of them are yelling at each other using all the chances they have to get their own voice heard.

Jason grimaces and decides to go looking for Tim. Maybe they could go grab some dinner in the meantime. Maybe they could take Dick with them. Dick has done enough peacekeeping for one lifetime.

He turns around the corner and stumbles straight into worried Dick.

“What’s going on?” is the first thing he asks.

“I dunno. I just woke up.”

“Oh. It’s almost funny, you know. I’m away for five minutes and he manages to spark a fight…”

“I know right? That kid is incredible,” Jason admits. Dick chuckles.

“Yeah, well, aren’t you one to talk? I think I have to go save him.”

Jason grabs Dick’s arm when the older man is about walk past him.

“Dick, you have no obligations to that kid. And he needs to get some of that anger out, before it eats him alive. I’ve been there, so I know what it’s like.”

Dick looks at his solemn expression. A smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“What?” Jason asks, somewhat irritated.

“He grows on you, doesn’t he?”

“The kid is a pain in the ass.”

“That he is,” Dick admits nudging Jason playfully, “but to be honest… so are you.”

Dick winks at him but then glances worriedly into the direction of the increasing arguing. Jason coughs and squeezes Dick’s arm tighter.

“Let’s take Tim and go have a dinner. Let them take care of the family assemble tonight.”

Dick looks hesitant.

“You go with Tim,” he says. Well, it would be nice to be with only Tim… but they all could use some family time. Jason dismisses the nice pictures from his head.

“Come on, Dick!” Jason pushes. Finally Dick sighs and smiles.

“Fine, if you insist.”

“I do.”

They go knock on Tim’s door and sneak out from the Manor hoping not to disturb the argument still raging in the main salon.

Jason looks over at Tim. The boy smiles to him and then measures Dick thoughtfully.

Jason shakes his head. Tim rolls his eyes.

“Trust me,” his lips form. Jason can do nothing but exhale and prepare himself for the bang.

– – –


	17. Revelations

“Dick… there’s something we need to tell you,” Tim starts when Dick returns into the car with their food from the nearest burger grill. Dick nods for him to go on while he shares out their food from a rustling paper bag.

“We, uh, me and Jason I mean, we are… together.”

Tim ends the sentence with great determination and pushes his jaw up like he’s trying to make a point of standing proudly behind his declaration. Dick smiles absent-mindedly and glances up to meet Tim’s eyes through the rearview mirror.

“I know.”

Tim’s lips part. Jason’s jaw drops. Dick tries to hold back his laughter when he hands Jason the last carton cup and gently closes his little brother’s mouth by lifting it with two fingers.

“How?” Jason demands to know.

“I…” Dick stutters suddenly realizing he should’ve pretended to be surprised, “I saw you two kissing last night when you came back.”

“I told you to wait into your room,” Tim hisses and hits Jason on the shoulder.

“But why didn’t you say anything?” Jason asks confusedly after he swatted Tim’s hand away.

“I went into shock, I guess? And at first I didn’t know what to think but then I kind of realized that what really is important is that you two are happy,” Dick explains quickly and ducks his head to direct his focus into his food. It’s the truth, in a way. Really, he shouldn’t be feeling this bad.

“I… wow. That’s not what I expected,” Jason mumbles, the defending words dying at his lips. “With your black and white morality I guess I expected a little more flames.”

“Had it been better if I’d gotten angry?” Dick asks. He couldn’t hide the fact that he was a little amused. It was sort of sweet (and a little sad, too) how Jason always automatically expected the worst reaction. 

“Well, that would’ve been easier to react to.”

And there it was. Dick hid his smile into a bite from his burger.

“Guess we should’ve learned by now that getting angry or disgusted or something along those lines is against your nature,” Tim chuckles. Dick smiles gently.

“In regard to my little brothers, yes,” he says winking.

“Okay can we cut this ‘happy family’ crap for a moment?” Jason scoffs, “I’m getting emotional distress from all this unity and harmony we’re experiencing here.”

“Yes, yes we can,” Dick laughs, “but I can I just ask you guys something?”

“As long it doesn’t concern our sex life. Because, unlike me, Tim has actually _been_ to health education and he knows his shit.”

For a moment Dick feels embarrassed by the detailed images that fly through his mind. He can’t stop himself from frowning – and blushing. Jason whistles and bursts out laughing. Even Tim is cracking up, and his poker face is the best in town.

“I did not need to know that,” Dick finally mutters.

“Oh my god, Dickie! You’re like the most innocent non-virgin I’ve ever met – and that is counting my Timmy here,” Jason cackles. Like literally, ‘cackling’ was the only word to describe Jason’s absolutely vicious laughter.

“I really didn’t need to know that either. But since we’re on the topic, have you two…?”

“Uh, we, uh –” Tim stutters. His snickering is instantly gone when he’s glancing between Dick and Jason and flushing heavily.

“Come on, man! Didn’t I just –” Jason protests, drowning Tim’s stammering under his own.

The two fall dead silent. They look at each other and then to Dick. The eldest man is grinning and trying to hold in his laughter.

“I’m just fucking with you,” he says allowing the grin to switch into a gentle smile. “My original question was, are you two happy but I think I got my answer already.”

“That’s some deep shit, Dickie,” Jason sighs.

“I’ll drink to that,” Dick declares lifting his carton cup of beer. Both Jason and Tim laugh at the exaggerated gesture, lift their cups and clink them together with his. Jason lounges back in the front seat and looks at his brothers from the corner of his eye.

“This is exactly like that one time when I was grounded and Dick smuggled Alfred’s apple pie to my room,” Jason reminisces, “and Tim slinked in to bring me soda and we’d clink our cups and pretend it was champagne.”

“Which ‘one time?’” Dick taunts. Jason hits his shoulder. Dick draws in an exaggerated gasp and hits him back. Jason nudges his head. Dick smacks him to the back of his head.

“Okay, you two idiots!” Tim shouts and takes a firm grip of Jason’s hair and Dick’s shoulder.

“We’re just playing around, pretty bird,” Jason chuckles. Dick grins at Jason and tries to tug on his white curl but Tim slaps his hand down.

“It’s not you two I’m worried about, you were lost causes years ago, but you’ll knock over the food at that rate. And _that_ would be a waste.”

“He’s good, isn’t he?” Jason asks from Dick.

“Compelling argument,” the elder one agrees.

Tim lets go of them and shakes his head but he’s smiling. Only a little but it’s still smiling. Jason turns around on his seat and grabs Tim’s collar.

“You’re so hot when you get dominating like that,” Jason hums. If his voice is like liquid sex in Dick’s ears too, it’s no wonder Tim’s breathing hitches and his face goes red. Jason yanks the boy closer to a kiss. And suddenly Dick feels like the car is too small for all the three of them, like he was listening in to a conversation not meant for him.

“I think I need to stretch my legs a little,” he says innocently and slides soundlessly out of the car.

The only notice he gets is a little hum from Jason.

Dick strolls a little farther away from the car. He looks around the empty parking lot and tilts his head when he notices a few customers by the grill.

Well, when has it stopped him before?

He stretches up quickly and starts the old floor routine he knows forwards, backwards and in his sleep.

The people glance up from their food. Someone drags out a cell and takes pictures. But Dick doesn’t care about them.

And how could he? The memories this old routine brings to his mind are too vivid, too intense and too real to leave space for anything else.

Dick smiles by himself. Memories grow sweeter with time.

Let them.

– – –

Damian is sitting alone in the salon. There is an untouched glass of red wine next to him on the coffee table. He’s staring into the flames of the fire place with a frown on his face and his thoughts running empty.

“Aren’t a little young for that?”

The voice startles Damian. The boy glances over his shoulder. Grayson is leaning to the door frame and watching him with a little smile playing on his lips. His deep blue eyes shift between Damian’s face, the flames and the glass of wine.

“Bruce used to do that a lot. Brooding. But he always went to the farthest library the Manor has,” Grayson continues stepping in to the room. Damian scowls.

“Please don’t bring Father up.”

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispers and leans against the back of the couch, “and I shouldn’t have left you with them.”

Damian snorts and shakes his head.

“They spent more time yelling at each other than to me,” he scoffs.

“Still. Arguing is a nasty habit.”

“A lot of fights go down in this household. You would know.”

Dick smiles gently. He circles around the couch and sits next to Damian. His eyes measure Damian from head to toes and then he smiles again. But this smile is a little sharper and sadder than the previous.

“Yeah, I would,” Dick repeats.

Damian looks down and doesn’t answer.

“Hey Dami, I have a gig tomorrow. You want to come backstage?” Dick suddenly says. Damian looks up, his eyes brightening. Then a thought makes him scowl again.

“But I’m underage.”

“Like that would stop you,” Dick laughs and lifts a hand to stop him when the boy is about to protest, “and I think I can slip you in. So, in or out?”

Damian grins widely.

“Well… in.”

“Be ready at 9 o’clock sharp,” Dick commands and pushes himself up from the couch. Damian nods.

“I will,” he says after the young man has exited the room.

Damian turns to stare back in to the fire. His thoughts run still empty but the frown on his face has now turned into a smile.

– – –


	18. Behind closed doors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know the rating, so this has been a warning (;

“Oh, Jay,” Tim moans. Jason’s right hand tightens its grip around Tim’s wrists and his left one digs nails deeper into Tim’s wet skin. His tongue travels lower and finds Tim’s nipples, erect from the water pouring upon them, causing the boy to throw back his head and whimper in pleasure. He has the boy pressed against a slippery tile wall in their private bathroom. Jason smirks and grinds his hips against Tim’s bare erection, raising a hoarse moan from the boy.

After they had dropped Dick off back at the Manor, they had headed out to the spa in which Jason had made a reservation. It happens to also be the most luxurious spa in whole Gotham City. Only the best is good enough for his pretty bird. Jason chuckles out loud and grinds harder against Tim.

That causes Tim’s quiet, pleasured humming to come to a halt, forcing him to gasp for air. His closed eyes snap open and he tries wriggling out of Jason’s grip.

“Timmy,” Jason chastises, “you should learn to behave.” To emphasize his point he takes a step back and tilts his head. Tim whines at the loss of Jason’s intimacy and the friction between their wet bodies.

“That’s more like it,” Jason praises and steps back in, pushing Tim tighter against the wall.

“Come on, Jay,” Tim begs, “get to it.”

“With time, pretty bird. _With time_.”

Jason releases his hand gripping Tim’s wrists and allows both his hands trail over Tim’s ass and down his thighs. Tim’s arms fall gently on Jason’s shoulders when the older man lifts him into the air and presses his back to the wall. Tim wraps his legs around Jason to keep himself up.

Jason’s fingers go tracing Tim’s entrance with softer touches than ever before.

“I’m not made of porcelain –” Tim begins but Jason shuts him up with rough kiss. Their teeth clash and Jason proceeds to suck on Tim’s lower lip. He rolls it between his lips and pulls on it a little. Tim moans into his mouth.

Jason pushes in two fingers causing Tim to break their kiss and inhale sharply. His hips jerk, grinding into Jason’s hands. The older man breathes into Tim’s neck and nibs on it. His fingers push into Tim on a slow pace while he continues to ignore the warm wave of lust building inside him and flowing in his veins.

“Oh fuck,” Jason murmurs, shoving back the feeling. Tim’s voice purrs into Jason’s ear like the boy knew what he was thinking.

Tim’s voice is so beautiful and so… expressive. The lust in his moans, the pleasure in his whimpers, the satisfaction in all the little noises he makes. Tim knows exactly what he likes and so far Jason has been doing all the right things to get his little brother off.

Jason adds a finger. There is a hitch in the low moan Tim’s voice is making. The slow pace is making Tim anxious; Jason can see it from his expression and taste it from his kiss.

“Jay…”

“Speak, pretty bird. Let me hear you,” Jason encourages and slightly bends his fingers inside Tim. Tim lets out a strangled noise, like he was trying to restrain himself from moaning. He can’t fight long and answers Jason’s provoking words with a needy whimper.

“Fuck,” the boy finally curses. “Just take me already.”

“With time,” Jason repeats and smirks.

“I think I’m gonna come just from your fingers,” Tim breaths out, “that would be embarrassing, Jay.”

Jason grins. He pulls away his fingers, the loss of it evoking needy whines from Tim. He lifts the boy better up against the wall and after a second he thrusts his cock in.

Tim’s voice drops lower, his moan resembling more a growl. Jason grins and thrusts in again.

“Come on, Jay,” Tim’s voice groans with a taunting tone, “can’t you do better?”

Tim legs tighten around Jason’s waist, pulling him closer and preventing him from escaping. Suddenly Jason realizes that as much as he has the upper hand in the situation, Tim knows not only what he wants but also how to get it.

Jason swallows when Tim’s lips, curved into a crooked smile, press against his. He thrusts into Tim and the boy whines into his mouth, lust sealing his tongue from speaking sensible words.

Moments later Tim breaks the kiss to breathe. They’re both dizzy and breathing heavily on each other’s skin.

“Jay!” Tim breathes out loudly.

The following thrust makes Tim come. His hips jerk harder than before, and his whole body twitches from the releasing pressure. His semen splays on their stomachs and thighs and Jason’s hands. The running water washes it all off leaving them clean and wet under the shower but there are things that can’t be washed away. Tim’s heavy breathing, the smug grin on Jason’s face, the satisfaction hidden in both of them.

Jason lets Tim down. The boy’s feet meet the tile floor with a splash.

“My first in the shower,” Tim hums and kisses Jason’s neck.

“Hah, wish I could say the same,” Jason blurts grinning.

“Shut up,” Tim commands, “I don’t wanna know.”

“Well, if you want me to stop talking, you should get to work.”

Tim tilts his head.

“Damn right I will,” he says slowly and smiles. Jason grins and reaches out his hand to stroke Tim’s cheek. His soft fingers trail upper and entangle in Tim’s wet hair.

The steamy glass covers them from the rest of the world, only their moans to be heard outside. Suddenly hand presses against the glass, leaving its mark in the steam before sliding down and disappearing.

Behind closed doors no-one hears their passion but like a sound no-one hears, it’s still there.

– – –

“Where do you think you’re going, darling?” Talia’s voice calls after him.

Damian stops in the hallway and glances over his shoulder. Talia is leaning against the salon doorframe while Bruce is peeking over her shoulder. They both have glasses half full of red vine and candle light is fluttering behind them. Damian holds back the disgusted face he was about to make.

Of course they’re his parents and all but Damian still feels like they shouldn’t be together. Not like that at least. Not having a candle dinner at the Manor and cuddling on the sofa and locking the door to Bruce’s bedroom.

“To Colin’s.”

“Why?” Talia queries and scowls. Damian rolls his eyes.

“Do you want me to submit an official form concerning all the details?” he asks and raises an eyebrow.

“Do not talk like that to her, Damian. She’s your mother,” Bruce interrupts.

“There would be no need if I had been informed that I need to check my goings with you.”

“Well, frankly my darling, you aren’t going anywhere with that attitude,” Talia informs crossing her arms. Damian huffs.

“So, now I’m grounded?”

“Until your behavior is like it should be.”

“Colin’s in real trouble. I can’t disappoint him,” Damian says quietly.

“You should’ve thought of that before talking down to me, darling.”

“Mother…”

“Call Colin and tell him you’re sorry. Maybe you’ll get to go tomorrow,” Talia commands. Damian frowns and drags out his cell. He dials Grayson’s number.

“ _Where you at, baby bro?_ ” Grayson asks when he answers the phone on first ring.

“Still at the Manor. Hey, sorry Colin but I can’t make it tonight. I know this was important to you and it was to me too but there’s complications back at home. Till next time, yeah?” Damian says into the phone all the while glaring at his parents.

“ _Hey, Dami, what’s this about? You okay?_ ”

“Yeah, yeah. Hang in there, Colin.”

“ _Are Bruce and Talia giving you hard time?_ ” Grayson demands to know.

“Mm, yes,” Damian mutters, “just don’t do anything stupid. Sorry, I got to go. Bye.”

“ _See ya, Dami._ ”

Damian hangs up the call. He spreads his hands at Talia and Bruce like he’s saying “you happy now?” before marching up to his room.

Damian throws himself on his bed, tosses his phone next to him and glares at the ceiling. Then his phone buzzes. A text. The boy takes a side-eyed glance at the screen. Grayson.

20:14 Grayson:  
«Dami? There’s still plenty of time before I’m hitting the stage. Want me to come and talk to Bruce?»

20:14 Damian:  
«No. Stay there, I’m coming. Any tips for climbing out my window?»

20:15 Grayson:  
«Yeah. Watch dining room under your window. Alfred’s usually there playing solitaire when Bruce has guests, so he might be surprised. Close the window, you can come through mine. Also, the wall is slippery after sun’s down.»

20:15 Damian:  
«Thanks. I’ll be there in fifteen.»

20:16 Grayson:  
«Just be careful. Wouldn’t want to explain this to Bruce…»

20:19 Damian:  
«I’m already out. I appreciate the unnecessary concern.»

Damian is already standing on the wet grass of Manor’s backyard when he realizes he has no means to get to the city. He curses under his breath and contemplates between calling a cab and calling Grayson to get a car from the Wayne Enterprises headquarters.

Bruce and Talia would hear a car pulling up the yard, so it would have to be down the road. Then he remembers Grayson’s motorcycle is still in the garage (he takes a cab to all his performances, since he’s not an exemplary driver even when sober) and an idea bobs to his head.

Damian sneaks into the garage, puts on the lights to search for a helmet and gloves. And maybe a jacket, too. There, on the side table next to the bike. Grayson’s leather jacket is too big on him and his gloves are a little loose but Damian has his own helmet in the garage so that won’t be a problem. The keys are in a jacket pocket. Perfect. He pushes the bike out from the garage and down the road so that the sound of its revving won’t be heard to the Manor.

He gets on the bike and gasses off.

20:37 Damian:  
«I’m in the backyard. Can I leave the bike here?»

20:38 Grayson:  
«You came with the BIKE?? Are you nuts??»

20:38 Damian:  
«Unlikely. Where do I come in?»

A minute later Grayson walks out from the backdoor and gestures Damian to follow him. He’s wearing the Nightwing costume and a black, winged mask that covers half his face. When he turns around to head back inside, Damian can’t but notice how good he looks in the suit. It’s showing out his muscular build and bringing out the best of his body. Everything that’s Grayson is of course beautiful but certain things catch your attention faster.

The boy parks the bike and walks after Dick. The backroom of the club seems… interesting. There’s people standing around and gossiping, people rushing with trays and laptops and pieces of clothing, people shouting and commanding others, people arguing. It’s a chaos that makes Damian itch. He hates chaos.

Not surprisingly Grayson looks like he’s feeling at home in the chaos. He’s ducking under the arm of someone lifting a crate, dodging a half running woman talking to an earpiece and greeting people he has never even seen as he goes.

It’s like the backstage of a fashion show, not that Damian has ever been at one.

Then there’s Grayson, looking over his shoulder every now and then, making sure Damian’s still there.

“Come on, they have given me a private room for changing and relaxing until the show,” Grayson calls. “You won’t get to touch the champagne, though.”

“Oh shut up,” Damian commands and catches up with the man. They arrive at a closed, white door which Dick opens with a key card.

Dick bows at Damian, twirling a hand as a gesture for Damian to go in first.

“Idiot,” Damian mutters when he walks past the man.

“Unlikely,” Grayson replies and shoots him a wink. Damian huffs and crosses his arms over his chest.

The door falls shut behind them and drowns out the rest of their conversation.

– – –


	19. The show

The music bangs so loud it makes Damian feel like he’s close to getting arrhythmia. The bass beats through his body and the guitar resonates in his veins. But despite the loud music, the spell cast upon the dead-silent crowd doesn’t ever decrease.

Damian is following the show from the side of the stage, sitting by the backstage door. Grayson is dancing – no, flying – on the floor, his movements captivating Damian as their prisoner just as easily as the rest of the crowd. Every move of his body is elegant and he flows from one move to another with such fluid grace that it’s unfair.

Nightwing. Damian tastes the name on his tongue, measuring it in his mind. It has a ring to it, like there was a faint feeling of mystery floating around it. Damian hums. It does justice to what Grayson looks like tonight. He can almost imagine wings on Grayson’s back, wings of a dragonfly. Or an angel. He entertains the thought for mere seconds before Nightwing’s dance whisks his rational thoughts away again.

The music ends. Grayson’s movements pace down slowly until he’s completely still. Damian can see his chest rising and falling sharply and drops of sweat rolling down his forehead. He grins and bows so deep his hair sweep the floor. The crowd bursts into applauds, cheering and whistling even louder than the preceding music.

Damian claps his hands along with everyone and cheers loudly, well knowing the crowd will drown out his voice. But Grayson glances straight at him and winks quickly like he’d heard. The boy scowls back at him and stops clapping. Grayson’s grin only widens.

Damian shakes his head before getting up and slipping into the backstage. After a minute Grayson appears there too and they hide into the dressing room he’s gotten for the night.

It has a wall painted lime green, a sofa in the same color and a graphite grey cabin taking most of the space in the back wall. A huge mirror covers the third wall. On the fourth wall, the only window is like a small slit near the ceiling. Damian plunges himself to the sofa and drags out his cell. Grayson lifts Damian’s legs up to the back of the sofa and sits next to him with a grunt.

“Ugh, I’m dead!” the older man whines.

“Tt. You’re the one who decided to do this,” Damian reminds him, not looking up from his phone. Then he drops his legs to Dick’s lap and smirks. This raises another grunt from the dancer.

“You’re the one who agreed to come,” Dick shoots back, “regretting this already?”

“This is nice.”

Dick chuckles and lounges back. His head falls back with a thump and he lets out an ‘ugh’ sound. Damian’s smirk turns into crooked smile and he finally glances up to the man. He tilts his head and scowls when his eyes lock on Dick’s face. The black domino mask causes a change in Grayson’s features. And actually, more change than it should. Damian’s frown deepens when he realizes why.

He’s in the room with a stranger. This is not Grayson who is gently massaging his legs. This is Nightwing. In a panicky thought Damian realizes he knows nothing about Nightwing. Who is he, where he comes from, how he acts, what’s his story.

“Grayson…”

Dick mumbles a question mark as a reply.

“Is Nightwing… like you?” Damian asks. Dick lifts his head. He looks at Damian like he couldn’t believe that the boy had asked that. Then he grins.

“Yeah, I…I think he is. But he’s still different. We’re one but not the same.”

“Do you want to tell me about him?”

“If you’re sure you want to hear?” Grayson says but his tone indicates he’s hesitant to believe that Damian is serious. The boy nods. He shoves away his cell and sits up to a better position.

“You remember Clark Kent, right? Well, once on a late night when we were severely drunk, he told me a story. It told about this hero his parents had made up to get him to fall asleep,” Dick begins, and Damian listens carefully. The tale of Nightwing isn’t really that long and after telling it Dick explains how he became fond of the story and decided to use the name for his alter ego.

After he’s finished, the dancer drops his eyes to his hands resting on Damian’s legs.

“I didn’t even think about that. That we’d be so different you’d notice. It was already bad enough I didn’t tell you,” Dick mumbles. Damian shrugs. He knew he had overreacted. Everyone should have a thing or two completely their own. But he won’t say it out loud.

“You should get back on stage. They are probably waiting for Nightwing already,” Damian urges instead. He deliberately chose not to say ‘you’.  
“Yeah.”

Damian lifts his legs off Dick’s lap to let the man stand up. Grayson pushes himself up to his feet and stretches quickly before checking the mirror to see if he looks good to go.

“Flawless,” Dick declares winking at Damian. The boy huffs, his expression staying unimpressed.

“Go get ‘em,” the boy just says and stands up too. They walk through the corridor to the stage door and Grayson pulls it open. He inhales the enthusiasm that hits him flat on the face when he slips back to the stage to meet his audience again.

Damian scowls and crosses his arms over his chest.

Grayson looks so at home in the center of the attention. A sudden feeling of possession flushes over Damian and he wants to yank the man back, off the stage. Grayson’s attention should be on the boy, he shouldn’t be out there entertaining a crowd that doesn’t have him in the front row.

_Why?_ Damian thinks to himself. _He’s not really mine. Well, not mine alone. So why am I now feeling this possessive?_ He blinks. Grayson’s on the move.

Damian decides to push away the feeling, to let it become a problem for another day. For now he decides to just lean back and enjoy the show.

– – –

Alfred takes a sip from his glass and picks up the deck to shuffle and deal another round. Laughter echoing from the salon interrupts his thoughts and he frowns. He sighs and shakes his head slowly. Then he glances out of the window, just in time to see a tuff of black hair disappearing behind the upper window frame.

Alfred smiles and looks back down. He starts dealing another round of solitaire. A silhouette flashes past the window but Alfred doesn’t look up.

Then he glances up again. He frowns again and puts down the deck. He stands up, straightens his suit and grabs the silver tray on the edge of the dining room table. He walks to the salon door and knocks on the door frame as a warning before entering the room.

Bruce and Talia are sitting on a couch very close to each other. They have sunken into an intense conversation so they don’t even notice Alfred entering the room. Their bottle of red wine is empty on the table, along with their glasses. The butler clears his throat. Bruce looks up to the elder man.

“Alfred?” he asks lifting an eyebrow. Alfred suppresses a smile. Master Richard has picked up that habit from the man.

“I see your bottle is empty, master Bruce.”

“Ah, yes. Can you refill us?”

“Obviously, master,” Alfred says smiling gently and walks deeper to the room. He opens a new bottle of wine that he picks from the silver tray and places it next to the old bottle on the table. Then he grabs the empty bottle and exits the room.

He lays the tray on the edge and sits down. His fingers trail over the cards that are laid face up on the table while he’s trying to remember where he left off.

Alfred tilts his head and deals the next card. Absent-mindedly he begins humming an old song.  
– – –


	20. Only you

Sun peeks in through the shut blinds. Tim groans quietly. His eyes flicker open and they dart around the room, his sleepy mind wondering where he is. Someone moves next to him. Skin brushes against skin. Suddenly Tim’s hazy mind comes to terms with the reality and he remembers his location. Jason. Jason’s arms are around Tim’s waist, and they are lying on the bed facing the same direction. God, he feels sore. Every single muscle of his body seems to be aching.

“Finally you woke up.”

Tim winces in surprise. The words are whispered gently in his ear by a voice that leaks of confidence and charisma. He wriggles around to face the man and stares deep into the smiling blue eyes of his older brother.

“Morning, pretty bird,” Jason mumbles.

“Morning, Jay,” Tim replies and places a swift kiss on Jason’s lips. The young man hums approvingly. When Tim pulls away, Jason yanks him back into a deeper kiss and only barely manages to prevent their teeth clashing. His tongue licks into Tim’s mouth. The boy lets out a heated moan but his voice becomes muffled by Jason’s lips.

Jason’s hands slip lower and cup Tim’s ass. Tim breaks their kiss. He has to breathe in and out before regaining his voice.

“Could we, like, eat first?”

Jason glares daggers at him. Tim looks down feeling uncomfortably hot under the steel hard stare.

“Such a killjoy you are, pretty bird.”

“I’m hungry!”

“Oh, fine. But my conditions are that we order something up here,” Jason demands. Tim smirks.

“Agreed.”

Jason reaches for the phone on the nightstand. He dials the room service number and orders them breakfast. Meanwhile Tim grabs his boxers from the floor, pulls them on and begins the search for his jeans. He feels like he has aged forty years overnight. Every inch of his body is hurting but in a contradictory sweet way.

“Turn a little to the right.”

Tim freezes over. He glances over his shoulder to see Jason has finished the call and is observing him from the bed. The young man raises his eyebrows at Tim like asking what’s wrong.

“What’d you say?”

“Turn a few degrees to the right, so I have a clear view of your backside. I like your backside. It’s nice to look at.”

“What’s wrong with my front side?” Tim frowns. Jason shrugs.

“Oh, nothing. But your front side looks exponentially better with no clothes blocking the view. If you insist wearing clothes, then I’ll prefer staring at your ass.”

“God, you’re dirty, Jay.”

“Ha! Says the one that fucked me sore last night!” Jason chuckles. Tim flushes and he looks down. His jeans lie at his feet. Instead of picking them up he returns to the bed.

Tim climbs back to the bed and on all fours he crawls over Jason. The young man looks surprised at the sudden change in the boy’s mood.

“Tell me, Jay, can you dance?” Tim asks and sits on Jason’s lap. The young man wraps his arms around Tim’s waist and tugs at the waistband of his boxers. They kiss long and slowly until both of them are dizzy and need to gasp for air.

“With you, I can do anything,” Jason replies smirking. Tim laughs.

“How sentimental,” he whispers smiling.

“Just the way of the world,” the older man whispers back, nodding.

A knock on the door interrupts their next kiss. Tim leans away from Jason and rolls his eyes. Jason bites back a laugh. A miserable try.

“Ugh,” Tim groans and gets up to open the door. The knock is repeated impatiently. “Coming!” he yells and grabs the handle. He pushes open the door. And his smile dies away.

The woman behind the door isn’t wearing the spa uniform.

And the worst part is Tim recognizes her. He attempts to slam the door in her face but she’s a step ahead of him. Her foot forces the door back open.

“Say cheese, mr. Drake!” the woman chirps.

Her camera flashes leaving Tim blind for a moment.

“Vicki Vale,” the boy mumbles, pure terror hiding right behind his quiet tone.

– – –

“Ms. Vale,” Jason calls behind Tim. The boy glances behind him in horror because there’s no way Jason would’ve dressed up that quickly.

But there he stands, fully dressed in mere seconds. Jason smirks at the woman who seems to hesitate whether to snap another picture or not.

“Morning, mr. Todd,” she greets, opting to put the camera down. Jason walks past Tim, pushing the boy gently aside, and closes the door behind him. Tim just blankly stares at the white surface of the closed door. His ears don’t even register the mumbled words that are spoken in the empty corridor, before Jason opens the door again, waves at Vicki over his shoulder and slips back into the room. He closes the door with a firm, determined click.

Not even a minute. That must be some new record.

“What’d you _say_ to her?” Tim wonders and backs away from the door.

“I told her about the huge pressures you’ve been under, with the big exams and the bad break-up and the death of your distant relative,” Jason answers with a straight face. He even manages to look compassionately pitiful while he talks. “So I said that I took you here to relax and forget about the pressures of your daily life. And I gave her a sharp comment about how the world never seems to leave you alone.”

“And she bought it?”

Tim can’t hide the astonishment from his tone. Vicki is unyielding, and she seems to have an in-built lie-detector. Last time Vicki had come after him, the headlines had declared him engaged to a fellow student, Tam Fox. That had been quite a mess.

Jason shrugs.

“That’s our official story. She won’t push it,” the older man assures. Tim just scowls. He wouldn’t be so sure.

“I just think it would suck if Bruce was to read something about us in the morning paper.”

Jason stares at Tim blankly until he cracks up and bends double with laughter. His howling is met with Tim’s stunned silence and slow, hardly distinguishable flush. When Jason finally gets a grip of himself, he’s wiping tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Holy fucking crap! He’s been evading and ignoring us for months, while running after some woman, and you want to spare his feelings? Oh my god, only you Tim. Only you,” Jason laughs almost maliciously.

Tim is still silent, just staring at Jason in surprise.

“Oh god. Why don’t we arrange him a little surprise, hm?” Jason suggests. “Let’s go out there. Hold hands, kiss, whatever. Let him read _all about it_.”

“Jay…”

“Okay, that was a bad idea. I admit it,” the elder one agrees, “sorry. I just mean, c’mon Timmy, you don’t have to think about Bruce’s feelings. You’re an adult. You can do what you want.”

Silence takes over the room. Tim closes his eyes and sighs. When he opens them again, he starts smiling.

“I know. That goes for you too, Jay,” the boy replies and walks to his older brother. They are facing inches away from each other. Brother. Lover. Boyfriend? With a shiver Tim realizes he doesn’t know what to call Jason anymore.

Jason smirks. He presses a quick peck on Tim’s lips before pulling away and measuring him from head to toes.

“Get dressed, pretty bird. My mood is ruined anyway.”

Tim’s response is a matching smirk of his own. But the pieces of clothing that his hands grab aren’t his own.

And they don’t check out for another few hours.

– – –


	21. A charity ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has taken me longer than normally to update so sorry for that :/ but my internship thingy is beginning and I'll have less time to write, so update times will be a little longer for a while now.

The atmosphere in the breakfast table is cold as ice and about as silent as it can be. The only noise is the clattering of forks and clanking of coffee cups against the table.

“Sooo… do we have any plans for today?” Dick asks after coughing up the courage. Talia’s menacing eyes gaze into his. Dick feels shivers running down his spine. Something about the woman has always raised his hackles up. She’s polite to him on the surface level but the way she looks at him has a mean glint.

“Talia has some business to take care of in the city and I have a meeting with Lucius,” Bruce says quietly, “we have a charity ball in the evening.”

“Oh yeah, that,” Dick mutters, pointedly sounding like he’s not interested.

“You better have a date, for my sanity,” Bruce accentuates, and Dick rolls his eyes though he’s grinning.

“I’ll take care of it,” he promises.

“Beloved, you’ll be late if you don’t hurry up,” Talia reminds before getting up. She nods at Dick and then to Damian before gliding out of the room. Bruce grunts and empties his cup in one sip. Then he pushes himself up to his feet and walks after Talia.

Damian and Dick are left alone into the room.

“Who will you ask?” Damian asks.

“No idea. You?”

“I’m not bringing anyone.”

“No? What about Cass? I think she’s flying in today. Steph is probably going with Tim…” Dick’s voice trails off and he glances at Damian out of the corner of his eye. Damian scoffs.

“Brown? I’d never dance with _her_. Cain is coming with Todd. Or so I heard. And Wilson won’t attend Wayne balls because of her dad,” Damian mutters. He immediately regrets mentioning Rose. Dick’s eyebrows almost shoot through the roof and he grins widely.

“No way, Dami! Rose? Slade’s daughter?” he exclaims.

“It’s not like that, you buffoon!” Damian rasps. “She’s the only one I wouldn’t strangle half-through the night. Including you!”

Dick makes a kicked puppy look at the boy. Damian has to pout so he wouldn’t laugh. Then the man grins and affectionately pinches Damian’s cheek along muttering he has a stone cold heart. Damian swats his hand away. But his skin is burning from where Dick’s fingers brushed.

He swallows with difficulty to breathe. The morning sun is shining in to the room. It reflects from Dick’s smiling eyes and plays on every surface of the room. Dick’s perfect, white teeth are still revealed by his perfect, genuine smile.

Damian huffs and jumps to his feet.

“You better bring someone. _I_ won’t keep you company,” Damian warns and walks out. Dick tilts his head after the boy, unsure whether he should be hurt or amused.

Damian’s posture and expression are flawless when he walks away but internally he’s screaming.

– – –

An hour before the first guests are due to arrive, Bruce is orchestrating a final check to make sure everything is in place. Talia is walking around the big hall with her hands joined behind her back, dealing out orders in an amazing pace.

The younger Wayne representatives are sitting on top of the big stairs leading down to the hall. Dick and Damian have conquered the highest stair, their legs entangled together. Damian is sketching something while Dick is simply watching. One step down to them Jason and Tim are sitting side by side, exchanging dirty rumors about some of the most pretentious members of Gotham’s cream. Meanwhile Steph and Cass are both leaning to the banister on separate steps. They are comparing their biceps and giggling like mad.

“So, Dickie, you got a date?” Jason teases and nudges Dick suddenly. The young man looks down at his little brother.

“Sure. She’s running a little late.”

“Who was gracious enough to save your ass?” Tim asks. Dick smiles and ruffles Tim’s hair.

“Babs. She’s way too kind to me, always has been. I can’t ever seem to thank her enough,” he smirks and pokes Jason’s cheek. The younger man swats his hand away and scowls. Damian growls that Dick should stay put if he wants to live.

“Do you have to always be that grim?” Steph complains to the boy. Cass whispers something in her ear. They both start giggling. Damian’s eyebrows furrow and his expression darkens when he drops his eyes back to his drawing.

“I think you hurt its feelings,” Jason whispers. Tim cracks a laugh. Steph tries not to snicker whereas Cass is only smiling a little. Dick leans closer to the boy and wraps his arms around the youngest Wayne, not caring about his loud protests.

“Don’t tease him!” Dick commands and pouts at the other four. It only causes them to laugh more.

“Dick! Tone down that noise!” Bruce’s voice thunders across the hall. They all have to cover their ears.

“Yessir!” Dick shouts back. Then he rolls his eyes and grins.

“Fuck. He has the loudest voice I’ve ever heard,” Steph swears. Damian scoffs.

“In that case your limited brain capacity is only surpassed by your limited experiences,” he mutters absent-mindedly.

“Damian, don’t be rude,” Dick chastises. The boy looks up at him in amusement and snorts.

“Sure. Whatever you say, big brother.”

“Oh snap, Dickie!” Jason exclaims. Tim smacks him at the back of his head.

“Don’t encourage him. And no-one says that anymore,” he mumbles. Damian rolls his eyes, not bothering to look up from his drawing.

“And no-one asked your opinion, Drake.”

Then a new voice joins the conversation.

“Nice to see you all on such a positive mood,” a woman’s voice greets. They all glance at the direction it’s coming from, only to see Barbara Gordon in her wheel chair smiling up at them from the bottom of the stairs. She’s wearing a black and gold dress with her burning red hair tied up. She looks stunning.

Dick stands up and straightens his jacket. He jumps down the stairs two at a time and bows to her in a melodramatic manner.

“Stupid boy,” she teases.

“In your service,” he tosses back. He can feel everyone’s eyes in his back, not sure about what he’s sensing in their glances. Most of them scream that he was stupid to let her go. He agrees, yes, but it was a long time ago.

“Where’s Alfred?” Barbara asks. Dick gestures towards the kitchen. Like having received a wordless signal Dick spins around the woman to push her into the large kitchen space where Alfred is watching over the final adjustments made by the catering service. The old butler notices them coming in before they even say anything.

“Miss Gordon,” Alfred says nodding to Barbara, “good to see you in good health.”

“I’m never in good health, Alfred.”

“Ah. I believe quite opposite, miss. You always seem to make the best of the circumstances,” Alfred disagrees shooting a disapproving glance to Dick. The young man has the decency to flush a little. Barbara laughs.

“True, indeed. Remember to enjoy the evening, Alfred.”

“I will. But only if you will, miss.”

Barbara smiles and nods but doesn’t say anything. Dick pushes her back to the hall where his siblings have gotten down the stairs and seem to be preparing for yet another pretentious, uncomfortable evening with Gotham’s finest.

They notice Bruce approaching them.

Silent gazes are exchanged as they all try to brace themselves. The nightmare is about to begin.

– – –


	22. Realization

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, the reason this has taken such a time for me to update is mostly because of the fact that I'm not living home right now and don't have access to a proper computer. Second, it's going to be like this for another month or two maybe, until I finish my internship and get back home. So try to bear and hopefully you enjoy the chapter :)

Jason twirls his half-empty glass of champagne with such absolute boredom that even an outsider can tell that this is not his scene. After a few more minutes Cass steals his attention by sighing theatrically and setting her own glass down to the table they’re both leaning into. She gestures towards the packed dance floor where the elitist socialites are swirling around each other in pretense harmony.

“Sure,” Jason sighs. He empties his glass in one sip and stretches his hand out to the petite, dark girl by his side. Cass giggles and takes his hand.

“Hypocrite,” she chastises, “I know you love this.”

“Only when my dance partner is my stunning half-sister,” he corrects gaining another giggle and an affectionate kick from the girl.

Their light steps float them deeper into the dance floor until they are brushing arms with a beautiful blonde in a purple dress and an equally handsome young man. The pair acknowledges them with slight nods and bright smiles.

“I didn’t even know you can dance, Jay,” Steph nudges.

“Neither did I, blondie.”

“He’s really bad,” Cass snorts, “he would’ve stepped on my feet three times if I hadn’t been alert.”

“Shut up, Cass,” Jason commands, irritation leaking from his voice. Tim laughs and shakes his head lightly.

“He can’t be that bad, Dick taught him. Although it’s not Dick’s fault that not all of his students have feather-light feet and a natural knack for rhythm.”

Tim’s words raise laughter in the girls and annoyance in Jason.

“You ain’t that good yourself, pretty bird!” Jason claims. “Remember that girl you brought here two years back, what was her name, Cassie?”

“She’s a high school friend, so yeah I remember,” Tim says quietly, “oh, stop laughing, you idiot!”

“Timmy, you’re blushing!” Steph teases and pokes his cheek. She’s obviously trying not to crack up. Even Cass is grinning.

“Shut up, all of you.”

This only causes the three to laugh louder.

“Anyway, I wasn’t talking about myself,” Tim says after the others have calmed down.

“Well, Dick’s an Olympic-level gymnast. That’s not exactly a fair comparison,” Jason reminds scowling. Steph snickers something about life not being fair.

“But why isn’t Dick dancing?” Cass asks suddenly.

“He’s keeping company to Babs,” Tim says.

“Mm, such a gentleman,” Jason sighs and overacts his dramatic expression.

“It’s good for each family to have one,” Steph snaps sharply at him. Jason winces and Tim grimaces.

“Touché,” Tim admits.

“Oh, _men_ ,” the blonde girl mutters rolling her eyes. Cass laughs. Jason directs a murderous glare at her. She laughs even louder.

– – –

Dick and Barbara are sitting by the kitchen doorway and are both watching the dance floor with wishful longing. Dick grabs two full glasses of champagne from a waiter walking by and hands one for Babs.

“So, what’s up with your project?”

“Dick, you don’t have to pretend you care about it.”

“But I do. It’s revolutionary. I may not understand the details or the real significance it carries but I do care. And I care about you. There may not be a “we” anymore but it doesn’t mean I will stop caring.

“Okay,” Babs laughs. She sounds a little relieved. Dick has always managed to make her feel at ease. “Well, the database is almost ready but the search codes still need to be honed. When I type in the symptoms of a disease it doesn’t always recognize the connections between them. Or when I ask a location by describing it, it might suggest a fictional place.”

“So it’s not intelligent?”

“Intelligent? Yes. Creative? No.”

“Ah, I see the difference. It has knowledge but no means to use it.”

“Yes, and I don’t yet know how to fix it. Do you know how hard it is to teach a machine?”

“Can’t be any harder than teaching Damian not to hit people,” Dick blurts. Babs glances behind him and suppresses a smile.

“He’s behind me, isn’t he?” Dick asks grinning. He gets smacked to the back of his head.

“That answers your question, doesn’t it?” Damian’s voice accuses behind him. Dick reaches out a hand and pulls the boy in front of him, not caring about the weak protests the boy is making.

“You’re impossible, you know that?” Dick asks and ruffles Damian’s hair. The boy slaps his hand away and scowls.

“Shut up, Grayson.”

“Yes, I love you too, Dami.”

Damian freezes on his feet and stares the man dead in the eye until Dick looks away and coughs uncomfortably.

“That’s rude, Dami,” Dick chastises and offers the boy a sheepish grin. Damian has to look down to prevent himself from flushing. Then he frowns and looks up again.

“You’re a sentimental fool, Grayson.”

“One of my many faults.”

Barbara laughs. Then she extends a hand to drag closer a third chair and gestures Damian to sit down. The boy seems to hesitate for a moment but then he chooses to join their company. It doesn’t take long until Babs and Damian have absorbed themselves in an argument about the technical details of Barbara’s omnipotent database project, known as Oracle.

“That’s sheer stupidity!” Damian shouts after one of Babs’ well-reasoned arguments.

“No, only justified doubt in human mind,” Babs counters.

“But the calculations are all wrong,” Damian insists and continues to churn out gibberish that means nothing to Dick. Babs answers with as impalpable string of words as the boy had conjured out.

After that has been going on for good half an hour, Steph and Cass happen to grace him with mercy. They approach the trio with knowing smiles plastered on their faces.

“Hey, Babs and Dick,” Steph greets. She ignores Damian purposefully. This causes the boy to open his mouth, about to shoot something sharp at her but Dick places an absent-minded hand on his thigh. Damian has to swallow hard and all of his energy goes to keeping himself together. The boy curses himself for such weakness but there’s not much he can do about it. Not right now, anyway.

“So, Jason and Tim took off to get some fresh air but I could use one more dance,” Steph begins, “so you guys wanna dance?”

“With you?” Damian spits out.

“Damian, manners,” Dick reproaches. The boy grunts, obligingly obeying the silent command. The man turns to look at Babs.

“Go ahead, Dick. I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I won’t dance,” Damian announces strictly. Cass glances at Steph who’s already whisking Dick towards the floor. She shrugs and sits down next to Damian.

Babs glances at the boy out of the corner of her eye. The smile that rises onto her face can only be described as cunning.

“You like him, don’t you?” she asks innocently.

Damian winces.

“What?”

“Oh, never mind. Wasn’t important.

Damian glares at her suspiciously but she only smiles gently at him and starts a conversation with Cass. The boy doesn’t quite dare to ask her what she had meant with her words but they make his brains tick. He steals a glance at Dick.

The man twirls Steph around with effortless grace. His smile brightens up the room even better than the luxurious chandelier above their heads and simply looking at him makes Damian feels light-headed.

Oh god.

Barbara’s right.

He’s in love with Richard Grayson.  
– – –


	23. Forming bonds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah yes I finally finished the chapter, it's been sitting in my drafts forever just waiting to be finished and polished but, well, here we go!

Few months passed peacefully after the charity ball. Bruce and Talia showed up for the holidays and were gone quickly after them. As far as Jason knew, Tim was still tracking Bruce’s movements even though they weren’t matching Talia’s anymore. The boy said he still felt like something was off but Jason didn’t really want to know.

The end of the year was nearing and they were starting to have struggles with keeping their relationship a secret.

The two sit on the edge of a balcony near the west-side end of the Manor and sip champagne from a bottle Jason had smuggled from the wine cabin, past Alfred’s disapproving eyes. The older man has an arm wrapped around the younger’s shoulders and he’s playing with Tim’s hair absently.

“So what if Steph and Cass know,” Jason says, returning to their earlier conversation they’d had on the phone while Tim was getting back from school. “They’re technically family as well.”

“It’s not that. I mean Dick has known for ages and Alfred too. The public and press we can handle, I’m sure. It’s Bruce I’m worried about. He won’t like this.”

“He never likes anything,” Jason frowns. Tim chuckles and kisses him to melt away his pout. The boy tastes like bubbles and champagne and oranges. Jason hums contently and makes it a point to pull the boy deeper into the kiss.

When they pull away they both feel slightly light-headed and dizzy.

“So should we just tell him before he figures it out himself or reads about it on the morning paper?” Tim asks.

“I don’t like that,” Jason mumbles.

“Hmm, you never like anything either.”

“Shut up, pretty bird. Besides, I like you,” the older man huffs sounding almost irritated. Tim laughs and kisses Jason gently before pulling away just so little that Jason can still feel Tim’s soft breaths on his face.

“That’ll earn you another kiss,” Tim promises quietly.

“Just a kiss?” Jason asks faking disbelief.

“Keep that up and we’ll see about it,” the boy declares before silencing Jason’s response with his lips.

Jason grabs their glasses and sets them down on the banister beside them. Tim slides down from the edge and pulls Jason after himself. They stumble backwards until Jason has the younger boy pinned against a wall.

Their hands wander on each other’s bodies, slipping under shirts and unbuckling belts. It’s nothing like in the movies or porn. Tim trips and falls inelegantly to Jason’s arms when he tries to shake off his jeans.

Jason suppresses a laugh. Tim hits him in the shoulder.

“Don’t laugh, you idiot!” the boy hisses.

“You’re cute,” Jason retorts and pushes him back against the wall. Tim reveals his teeth but Jason shuts his mouth with a feverish kiss.

Just as Jason slips his thumbs under the waistband of Tim’s boxer briefs, they hear a weak whimper and the sound of breaking glass. Their heads snap towards the voice in panic.

Damian stands in the doorway his mouth dropped open.

“The fuck you staring at, brat?” Jason blurts, acting typically like himself. Damian links in surprise.

“Wow. I should’ve guessed,” he mutters examining their position with a cool and calm expression on his face.

“Damian, please, don’t–”

Damian cuts Tim off by lifting one hand in the air.

“Shut up. I need your help and you can ensure my silence by helping me out, okay? That’s what you want, right? For this to stay off the radar,” he assumes and waits for two hesitating nods before clapping his hands and continuing: “So, do we have a deal?”

Tim looks at Jason and nods curtly.

“If we only _can_ help.”

“Oh, I sure hope so,” Damian smirks, “now, won’t you dress up and meet me in my room in, let’s say, half an hour?”

Tim nods again and Jason ushers the boy out of sight. The older boy sighs, trying not to think about the certainly mischievous glint in the boy’s eyes.

– – –

“So what was so important it couldn’t wait until like dinner?” Jason growls when they bust in to the boy’s room.

“How nice of you to knock,” Damian mutters, clearly startled by their entrance.

“Brat, you just surprised us in the middle of something, you have absolutely no right to complain about knocking!”

“Well, no-one forced you to get into it in a balcony of all places,” the boy shoots back. It earns an evaluating head tilt from Tim and a huff from Jason.

“Anyway, spit it out, demon seed,” Jason continues and slouches down to the boy’s bed. Tim leans against his desk and crosses his arms over his chest. Damian looks incredibly uncomfortable when he shifts on his feet and sighs.

“I recently came to realize I may have feelings for a certain person,” Damian begins but he doesn’t get any further when Jason interrupts him.

“Oh, you gotta be fucking me, who?” Jason yells so loud the roof probably jumped. A grin full of glee and disbelief rises on his face. Tim simply stares at Damian with his jaw dropped open.

“That is not important,” Damian dismisses and crosses his arms. “I need your help to court them.”

“Is it Rose?” Tim asks.

“No, it’s not Rose! And before you ask it’s not Katana either.”

“You know, Katana isn’t her real name,” Tim points out. Damian rolls his eyes like he couldn’t even bother to say that he knows.

“Anyway, you are both more experienced in this “dating” thing and, although I’ll deny ever admitting this, I might need your help.”

“Well, you’re not exactly an easy case,” Jason says. Damian grabs an empty glass from his nightstand and pulls his hand back to throw it but stops the movement in the last second. Jason slowly lowers his arms he had lifted to cover his face.

“Well, you’re not exactly a likeable person so being yourself might not work but then again… if you can’t be yourself around them, you shouldn’t want to be with them,” Tim ponders aloud scratching the back of his neck absently.

“That’s the thing, he’s about the only person I can be myself with,” Damian says quietly. He sounds so sincere and serious that neither of the older boys dares to mock that.

“He?” Tim asks after a moment.

“I _knew_ it!” Jason yells.

“Yeah, that’s my other problem. I don’t know if he’s into guys,” Damian sighs. Jason grimaces.

“That’s bad. It could get really awkward if he’s only into girls.”

Tim nods to show his agreement. He measures Damian from head to toes and shrugs.

“Put aside your horrible personality, you’re rich and good-looking and talented in many areas. You’re a catch, if one can get along with you. I say go ahead. Buy him roses, take him to see the stars and show him you care.”

“I’d do movies,” Jason disagrees, “no need to talk. Then take him to a restaurant for the talking part. Also, if you don’t know what to say, you can always talk about the movie. Then, at some point, you tell him you enjoy his company and want to be more than friends.”

“How did you to tell each other?” Damian asks thoughtfully. Jason and Tim glance at each other.

“We… kind of got drunk and started making out at the salon sofa,” Jason says hesitantly. Tim grins.

“Yeah, don’t try that,” he chuckles. “You’re a little a young for that.”

“He’s a little young for dating overall,” Jason mutters.

“Hey!” Damian bursts out, “I’m fifteen and capable of making my own decisions.”

Jason lifts his hands up defensively and raises his eyebrows at the boy. Tim gives him a laugh. Damian’s murderous glare directed towards him only makes him laugh more. Damian grunts.

“This has been helpful,” he admits.

“I trust our part of the deal is filled?” Jason asks. Damian nods.

“I’ll keep my mouth shut just as long as you will,” he declares. Tim nods sharply.

“A little off-topic… you mind even telling us who it is?” he enquires tentatively. Damian snorts but Jason hums knowingly.

“It’s Dick, obviously,” Jason says. “No-one else gets along with the brat.”

The panic on Damian’s face is visible for only a crack of a second. Tim thinks Jason didn’t even notice because the man is bent double with laughter. He puts the notion away for later use but doesn’t continue to pressure the boy.

“Whatever, we’ll get out and leave you to scheme your ultimate plan to charm your prince,” Tim announces and grabs Jason by his arm. “Good luck, Damian.”

Damian looks surprised. Then he gets a grip of himself and nods.

“Thanks, Drake. Good luck for you two, too.”

Jason winks at him over his shoulder when they walk out of the room. Damian sighs and shakes his head but a small smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth.

– – –


	24. Oblivious smiles

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate finals. But luckily some of them are past now and I'll hopefully have more time for writing, yay :D

It turns out Dick is more oblivious than expected.

It’s the third time this month they go out, more or less alone, but despite Damian’s passive aggressive flirting, Dick still hasn’t caught up. If he didn’t know any better he might’ve thought Dick was ignoring his hints on purpose.

The loud bass booms over Damian. They’re standing in the second row of a gig of some band Damian only knows of because he stalked Dick’s favorite’s from his spotify. And though he doesn’t need to speak right now, Damian knows that soon they’ll be sitting in the car on their way back and all he wants is to find the right words for that moment.

“Easier said than done,” Damian mutters and kicks the ground. His voice drowns under the cheering crowd and the blasting music. Dick is standing beside him, waving his arms to the beat. The man gives him a curious glance.

“Did you say something?” he yells to Damian’s ear. Damian looks up, startled. He feels his heart jump in his chest when he notices how close Dick actually is.

“I like you,” the boy says, not even bothering to hide how tired he feels. Dick frowns and shakes his head.

“I can’t hear you!” he shouts and leans closer. Damian bites his lip and shrugs.

“I didn’t say anything!” the younger Wayne shouts back. Dick nods and grins. Then he seems to notice how uncomfortable Damian looks. He grabs the boy firmly from his shoulder and takes a better look straight into Damian’s eyes.

“Are you ok?”

Damian can’t hear his voice but easily reads the words from the man’s lips. He nods. Dick nods too but Damian knows he doesn’t believe it for a second.

The band is surprisingly good. Damian lifts his hands into the air and allows himself to forget the world for a while.

After the band finishes they decide to get something to eat before heading back to the Manor.

They go through the drive-in. Dick parks the car few feet away from the grill. They sit on the hood of the car and eat their burgers in silence. Dick had set the car’s radio to a station that plays old 90’s hits but Damian can barely hear the music. His ears are still ringing. His heart hasn’t stopped racing either.

“Grayson…” Damian begins quietly. Dick looks up from his food and sets down his burger. He looks a little worried. That’s not what Damian was going for, not at all.

“Yeah?”

Damian feels all words escape him. He opens his mouth then shuts it again.

“I…”

_Say something, you idiot_ , Damian’s mind exclaims. Suddenly he becomes very aware of his every move and hopes he hadn’t opened his mouth.

“They were pretty good,” he says, “the band. How did you first hear about them? I mean, their stuff never plays on the radio.”

_You’re rambling, just shut up_. Damian takes a bite of his burger. Dick tilts his head and shrugs.

“Well, you remember when Jay was working in the music store down the street from Gotham high?”

“Yeah, and that Christmas everyone got CD’s from Todd,” Damian mumbles, not-so-fondly remembering the High School Musical soundtrack CD he’d gotten. Knowing it was Todd, it was entirely possible that it hadn’t even been a joke.

“So you do. Mine was a random pick he’d made. It was their first studio album. Best random pick ever,” Dick laughs. Damian smiles with amusement. Dick was so ridiculously excited about everything. When the boy had come to him with the tickets to the gig, Dick had practically jumped through the ceiling.

He finds himself staring blankly at Dick’s bright grin. _Stop staring_ , his mind hisses. Damian coughs.

“Apparently my random pick was pretty good too, then,” the boy says smirking. Dick chuckles.

“Yes, Dami. Very good.”

Dick ruffles Damian’s hair. Damian has to gather all his self-discipline so he won’t grab Dick’s hand and lunge forward to kiss him.

Dick only smiles and returns to happily chewing his burger. Damian sighs.

This was so much more difficult than he’d anticipated.

– – –

Tim rolls his eyes and glares at Steph. The girl spreads her hands with a challenging look on her face.

“You know I’m right,” she says simply. Tim sighs.

“Jay doesn’t like it. Not to say that I was any fonder of the idea.”

“Well, your options are pretty limited unless you really plan to let him know through Gazette. Like the time you got ‘engaged’, remember?”

“I _know._ Vicki is expert at this stuff but she’s not what worries me. It’s Bruce,” Tim explains and slumps back to his bed. Steph gets up from the chair she had occupied and sits in front of Tim.

“I might not be the best advisor on this matter. But I’ve known you for a long time and from my front row seat I’ve seen you, your brothers _and_ Cass interact with Bruce. He’s a bitter old man and very bad in verbal communication but I’ll be damned if I can’t see he cares about all of you,” the blonde girl swears. “He might get mad. He might yell at you and blame you and tell you it’s wrong. But if you stand up to him and show you’re serious, he’ll come around. Because he cares about you.”

Tim stares at Steph, blinking in surprise. The girl smiles softly and lifts her eyebrows.

“That was inspirational,” he says and sits up.

“I know. I prepared it beforehand,” Steph admits. Tim laughs and throws a pillow at her.

“Only you!” he chuckles and ducks the girl’s revenge throw.

They end up wrestling and pillow fighting on the bed, with Steph easily overpowering Tim and using her advantage to launch a tickle attack. Tim begs for mercy after ten seconds. The girl backs off and allows the boy to catch his breath.

“You’re horrible,” Tim scowls.

“What happened to inspirational?” Steph asks pretending to be surprised.

“It’s lying on the floor with that pillow,” the boy says and points at said pillow. Steph goes to pick it up and hands it to Tim.

“Here’s your inspiration. Now go out there and tell Bruce.”

“Now?”

“Well, when then? Tomorrow?” Steph queries, “Did you that most common time to do anything, is tomorrow. And tomorrow it’s still going to be tomorrow.”

“True,” Tim sighs. “Well, wish me luck, then.”

He gets up and manages to walk all the way to the door before he turns back.

“I should ask Jason first,” he mutters. Steph nods.

“Good boy.”

“Um, you do want to come? For emotional backup?”

Steph pushes herself up and shrugs.

“Well sure.”  
– – –


	25. Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayy, managed to get this out here finally! Enjoy the chapter and the upcoming summer, guys!

As expected, Jason didn’t like it. In general, there were a lot of things Jason didn’t like but by far, this was on top of the list.

“I thought we talked about this,” he says frowning.

Tim spreads his hands and shrugs. Steph scowls and opens her mouth but decides better of it and lets Tim speak first.

“I still think we should tell him,” Tim says, “I mean, it’s not like we’ve killed somebody and besides, we’re practically adults. He should realize he can’t rule our lives and if it hasn’t struck him yet, we should tell him.”

Jason tilts his head.

“Good point.”

“So, are we going to battle?” Steph asks. Jason rolls his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have used that term but sure,” he says. Then he walks to the door and gestures them to follow. “I think he’s in the study.”

They find Bruce in the study, just as Jason had said. He sits hunched over a stack of paper, maybe signing some contracts. Steph slops down to a couch while Tim and Jason walk a little closer. Tim coughs and Bruce looks up.

“Yeah?” he asks.

“There’s something we got to tell you,” Tim begins. Jason’s face looks like he’s already regretting their decision. Bruce glances from Tim to Jason and back to Tim.

“Yeah?” he repeats.

“We’re dating.”

“Both of you? Who?” Bruce asks, clearly not getting Tim meant they’re dating each other. Tim glances nervously at Jason, who seems to be avoiding Tim’s eyes.

“We’re dating each other,” Tim corrects quietly, “we’re together.”

Bruce’s face goes blank for a second. His eyes examine Tim and Jason expressionlessly, like he suddenly didn’t recognize them. His lips purse and it seems like he’s about to say something but then decides against it.

“Who else knows?” Bruce asks slowly.

“Dick, Damian, Steph, Cass,” Tim lists, “Alfred.”

Bruce sighs and sets down his pen. He rubs his temples and sighs again. Tim fiddles with his shirt and glances at Jason again. The older boy pretends to be very interested in his own shoes. The air in the room seems very tense, like they were waiting for an explosion.

“Is this because I haven’t been home lately?” he asks.

Tim’s eyes widen in surprise. He wasn’t expecting a reaction like that.

“No, it’s because fucking love each other,” Jason bursts out.

“Brothers don’t love each other like you seem to suggest,” Bruce replies, disapproval in his eyes. Jason straightens his posture and blinks like he couldn’t believe his own ears.

“Well just to remind you, we aren’t brothers!” Jason exclaims. “Not really, anyway.”

“Bruce, what Jason is trying to say, is that technically we’re just living under the same roof. What we feel for each other, is not brotherly love,” Tim explains, “but we aren’t here to argue about the technicalities. We’re here simply to tell you how things are. And all we want from you is respect for our right to decide what’s best for us.”

“Respect?” Bruce repeats with a cold voice, “I can’t respect something that doesn’t make any sense. This is wrong and both of you know it.”

“You can disapprove and yell and pretend to be hurt all you want. We aren’t asking for your permission,” Tim says determinately.

“Tim, Jason,” Steph begins, “why don’t we go outside and let Bruce think about this thoroughly. He’ll soon realize that the most important thing isn’t his personal feelings or his company’s imago but his sons’ happiness.”

The girl stands up and holds the door open.

“At least, that’s what a good father would realize,” she continues pointedly.

Tim and Jason nod at the girl’s words and head out. Before Steph walks after them, she turns to measure Bruce once more.

“I have had loads of experience with a bad father, so I would know,” she says, “They deserve better than that.”

– – –

When Dick and Damian arrive back home, they find Tim and Jason sitting in the salon with Steph. The trio was sipping champagne with sour faces, and the mood in the room wasn’t exactly upbeat.

“What’s with you?” Dick asks and sits on the back of the couch Steph was sitting on.

“We told Bruce,” Tim says, “about us.”

“He didn’t take it well?” Dick queries and raises an eyebrow. Damian scoffs in amusement. He wouldn’t be at all surprised if Bruce didn’t like it. Father had always been strict even about regular boyfriends and girlfriends. Let alone, if two of his sons started dating.

Of course this didn’t bode well for his plans regarding Dick. But if Father would prove to be a problem, he could just persuade Grayson to move with him to Talia’s. 

“Not really,” Jason says.

“He didn’t yell,” Tim points out. He says it like it was some sort of accomplishment. In a way, it is.

“That usually means he’s really pissed,” Dick reminds, “You remember when we argued about me moving to Blüdhaven?”

Damian sighs. He remembers, too well to his liking. Dick had wanted to join the BPD few years back, which had led to him and Bruce clashing pretty badly. It had ended up with Bruce leaving the room and closing the door really slowly and quietly. The quiet click of the door had been even worse than slamming it.

Tim sighs loudly.

“We got to just hope he understands.”

“If it comes down to it, I’ll move out and then we can do what we want,” Jason announces.

“That won’t help at all,” Tim claims. Damian shrugs.

“Why not?” the boy asks. He looks around the room. “It would show him that you’re serious about this.”

“Maybe. Or he’d get even more pissed,” Tim replies.

“Well, the most important thing is, that the truth is out,” Dick points out. He turns to the doorway and coughs loudly. “More glasses, Alfie? And join us!”

Alfred arrives a minute later with two more glasses and a coke can. He passes the can to Damian with a meaningful glance. Then he pours more champagne for everyone. After Dick coughs again, he pours a glass for himself too.

“For the truth,” Dick announces. “And family.”

“Dramatic, as always,” Jason mutters and takes a sip.

“What a glamorous life we lead,” Dick laughs. He clinks his glass with Damian’s coke can and drinks.

The mood in the room is a whole lot lighter. Tim puts on music. He quarrels with Damian about the song choice. Jason jumps to Tim’s defense. Dick tries to get them to stop but Steph tells him to let the children play. For a while, everything is in place again.

Damian glances to the door to see Bruce standing in the doorway. Dick notices the man too and gestures him to join them. Damian isn’t surprised that Bruce just turns and walks away. Grayson places a hand on Damian’s shoulder and hands the boy his glass.

“I’ll be back in a sec,” he says and goes after Bruce.

Damian’s eyes follow the man to the door. For some reason he feels a little empty inside.

– – –

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so just heads up that this started out as my first ever attempt to write a DickDamian fanfic but it kind of drifted into a JayTim one so now it's just kinda both.


End file.
